Ache for You (Trapped in Three Hill Book 1) (16 page)

What the Fuck Was That? - Mal


              Hello universe, me again. Just wondering what on earth I did to deserve this? I’ve got a woman cleaning my house and dusting my fake plants, while I rearrange my television.

              Wouldn’t it be easier if she were in my bed? Why couldn’t you just do that? I just want to fuck Cadence and get her over with. I want her out of my head. I want whatever I felt while she was pressed up against my chest to flutter off and pretend to be dead. I can’t take this.

              Having her in my arms, I felt something that made me angry and mad and sad and every other emotion one can come up with.

              I felt like I’d come home again.

              I felt alive, and I felt dead.

              I hadn’t felt this much hatred for anyone since I lost my best friend. Hating Ruth had been expected. That’s what all the grief councillors said, I was supposed to hate her for leaving and find a way to forgive her. I was supposed to understand that she did what she did because she saw no other option. She was sick, depressed. Manic.

              I miss her like I would miss my head if it rolled off and into the sand. I miss her the way I miss warm clothes right out of the dryer. I ache for warmth, and I ache for her. I miss everything about her. My memories of her aren’t even memories anymore. They feel like a DVD I keep trying to start over. She hasn’t been gone that long, and yet it feels like forever. With Cadence here all I can feel is the anger but still I allowed myself to laugh at her instead of with her. I need to try harder to hurt her.

              I look over. Cadence is bent over, I almost growl and have to hide my face in my elbow to stop my smirk.

              She looks so damn good in my shirt. The shorts she chose to hug her every curve. They are spandex running pants that I have never worn. Spandex is just not my thing. I don’t need to display my junk for the world.

              Is it weird that I want to display my junk to her? Yeah. That is totally fucking weird. I need to stop staring at her. I need to get my act together. I need to stop washing the same part of the wall over and over. I’ve cleaned it at least nine times by now.
              “Do you smoke in here Mal? Or did you, I don’t know. Used to? Everything is yellow. When I was little, my grandma smoked four packs a day in the house while she watched TV.” Cadence picks up a half empty chip bowl and turns around, warming me up with her golden eyes. Her soft lips move, forming a small frown. She stops herself from letting me see her small smile.

                            I see the ghost of it anyhow. It makes her look vulnerable, much younger than she is right now, as if we’re on the same playing field.

              “She was mean, but she had a quick mind. She remembered everything; she knew everyone’s names and she memorized birthdays. She died when she was like eighty-nine, but her brain was still like lightning.” She has stopped pruning my fake tree long enough to smile at me.

              “Anyway her whole place had to be stripped after she died, she ruined the paint and the flooring. The window coverings, everything, was yellowed with nicotine. It was kind of disgusting but hilarious at the same time. It was like her getting the last word for the last time. She was dead and at peace, and we were all stuck cleaning.”
              I watch her face glow at the strange memory.

              “My brother Alex liked to clean. He was odd that way. One time in like grade twelve or something, I skipped class and came home early only to find him singing, cleaning and making lemonade.” Cadence turns to face away from me, her words hanging.

              “I’m sorry.” I say because it’s better than saying nothing.

              “What happened to your brother Caddie?”

“What Happened to Your Brother Caddie?” - Cadence


              It was such a simply question that Mal asked me. One that shouldn’t have made my face rush with heat. I shouldn’t have dropped the plant I was just dusting, but I did anyway. It hit the carpet and rolled away, sideways.

              I couldn’t say anything.

              My mouth felt suddenly flimsy, my chest ached, and I looked around helplessly for someone or something to rescue me. I had ruined everything quite easily.

              My life had never been cake. It has always been messy. Our parents fought about the little things constantly. About every little hair out of place. The mismatched cutlery. Everything. Constantly.

              Alex and I wanted to escape that day. He was sixteen and so sweet and innocent. Dark hair and clean blue eyes. Charming to anyone who looked his way. He had me wrapped around his pinkie before his first birthday. I had heard about a party; I had begged him to come with me. He said he hated me drinking. I went anyway, and the rest is history.

              “My brother died because of me.” I hear myself saying suddenly. Waiting for the second bomb to drop but Mal just looks at me, waiting expectantly and carelessly. I know that deep down, there’s no way that he is interested by anything I say, and yet for some reason, he seems unable to look away. The tension between us is so thick you could cut it and serve it to three, pretending that it was leftover birthday cake. I want to lick the frosting. I want to lick Mal. God, I am crazy sounding.

              “He died because of me,” I say, explaining what I said already, repeating myself out loud and in my brain. “He’s lifeless right now on a hospital bed, he would be pronounced dead if we unplugged him. He can’t breathe on his own, he has no brain activity. His organs are failing constantly.”

              “It’s all because of me. I was a moron. I went out drinking with some buddies, and I had to call my little brother to rescue me, that’s awful, right? He was only sixteen but he called his friend, and he and Torrance headed for me straight away.” My stomach is churning. Dancing and spinning. I feel like I’ve been drinking.

              “I was on the couch alone and some guy started undressing me. He said that he got the wrong idea when we were dancing, and that I had to be punished. So like I said, I called Alex and Torrance. At least I kind of remember it like that.” I swallow the memory like my throat is full of venom. My body stiff as that creep pushed his cock against it, his breath felt hot, and I felt sick.

              He got me on my back in no time flat.

              “I cried for them like six or seven times while it was happening and suddenly they burst right in, two heroes looking for worship even though they were just kids. Alex was good at being scary when he was mad, and he got so furious when he saw what had happened. He picked me up like I weighed nothing and carried me out my parent’s van. He had borrowed it I guess, more room for drunk me to lay in.”

              “I couldn’t stop crying,” I continued “and I remember Torrance looking over at Alex when they jumped into the front, he said, ‘are we just going to let him get away with that?’ And Alex nodded. I was so relieved when I saw this. They were just kids; I should have fought my battles instead of relying on them, but I always did. We didn’t make it home, but I’m sure you’ve already guessed that. I don’t even know exactly where we were when it happened, when some moron crossed the center line, and we crashed straight on into him.”

              “Alex was dead. Before I even knew what had happened, Alex was dead, but they tried to revive him and they did for like half a second. They transported him by air ambulance to Calgary, and Torrance was so numb and sick and I just felt lifeless. I woke up in a hospital bed and I knew that my life would never be the same again. I knew that nothing would ever matter again, and I was almost okay with that, because I wanted to be dead. I wanted to trade spots with Alex.” I swallow, avoiding looking directly at him. Mal, his precious is pushing against my chest.

              He takes a step forward; I take two back.

              “I don’t deserve to live.” A million times I have said this and every single time I meant it. I’m not looking for pity, only an acknowledgement of my regret. My fucked up life choices.

              I did this, I ruined my life. I changed the stars and didn’t mean to do it. Alex should have lived.

              He should have had the chance for his first and last kiss, he should have seen the sun rise every morning, and he deserved to feel it. He was such a good kid. I loved him more than words understand, and I know that never again will I love another like that.

              “What do you deserve then?” Mal asks, he has gotten into my space without being noticed. He reaches out for me, and I fight the urge to slap him. I don’t know what will happen when I am once again touched by him. I blink and look up at him. His eyes are flat, his voice heavy and grief tinged.

              “This,” I say without an explanation, and I kiss him. I have to stand on my tip toes to reach him. My hands latch onto the back of his neck, I try to angle my mouth against his as he stiffens.


              “No, don’t ruin it.”

              His lips are warm and rough, I know right away that his world is no safe haven. My nose pushes against his, I devour his sullen lips. Pushing and silently pleading with him to pull back for whatever I’ve taken.

              Mal stays still. His hands in raging fists at his sides. Still, I kiss him.

              I graze his bottom lip with my tongue, nipping the pink skin until he trembles. I want so badly for him to kiss me back. I pull back to look at him, his green eyes are hooded.

              “Jesus, you can really kill a girl’s confidence.” I play with him, touching his bare chest. “I thought I was good at this, that’s what all of my ex-boyfriends…” he cuts my words off and growls as if he hates the taste of them. His hot mouth pressing against my lips until I open for him.

              He moves when I move. He tastes like heaven. Whisky and something sweet and solid. It burns when I kiss him.

              I let it.

I Like This - Mal


              I like this. I clench my fists and lean in, Cadence’s mouth is abrasive at first kiss. Her touch persistent, I lean into her.

              Letting her work at my closed lips, she’s giving me chicken kisses. The texture of her lips becomes velvet as I laugh, before I kiss her back a little bit. Opening my lips, allowing her entrance as I grab her arms, bending in half to back her up.

              Our tongues do a strange dance, all I can feel is wetness and we both laugh. She has her hands on the back of my head.

              This is awkward as all shit, pulling me even further in. She keeps giving me chicken kisses, pecking at my face with her lips.

              I grin. I want to touch her ass. I’ve always been an ass man; my fingers ache with the need of her skin. I want to reel her in, I never want to let anyone get close to me again, and I never want us to exist without the other in our strange little orbit. For right now, I just like this.

              “What are we doing?” I don’t need to ask, I’ve gotten a pretty good idea as to what we’re doing and where this is headed. My bed, with her bent over it. Yeah, I can picture that.

              “Kissing,” Cadence says.

              I feel her happiness. I don't know if I like it, I’m a bit creeped out by it. The light in her eyes? That’s not for me. I know it.

              She must have some other dreamboat locked up in that funny head. I reach up to cup her chin, tilting her head back, my thumb tracing her raw bottom lip, while my other hand strokes my way down her back, towards the curve of her ass.

              She’s fucking my mouth into oblivion. Our breathing heavy, I move my lips to her jaw, her neck, sucking and biting her pink flesh. She whimpers, waking up my dick.

              My boner is officially awakened.

              I should have let her wear that stupid dress. It would have made everything a lot more convenient. My hands trace the fabric of my pants that have stretched over her skin. I go back to bite her bottom lip before slipping my hand into the back. Hand on her ass. Flesh on flesh. I give her skin a little slap. When Cadence perks up a bit I know that she enjoyed it. She pulls back.

              “What?” I ask.

              “Nothing,” she says. “That was just…”

              Awesome, sexy as all shit?

              “…ugh different?” Cadence finishes. Eyes heavy lidded.

              She kisses me again.

              It’s a closed lip kiss. We peck at each other like idiots. I slide my hand further down her ass, grabbing warm flesh. She cries against my lips and gasps. I want all of her skin.

              I drop my other hand from her chin and push down her borrowed shorts. The elastic band slaps her hips, so I rub the reddened flesh as Cadence sucks on my bottom lip. I feel like I’m eating her face, but I’m also enjoying it. My fingers are seeking her entrance.

              I find her heat, her folds hot and wet, waiting for my fingertips. I dip right in, circling her clit. Cadence moans and arches her back. I feel like she’s never been touched like this. I feel like this is strangely intimate.

              I swirl the tip of my finger against her entrance. Pushing in, Cadence silently begs for my other hand. I give right in. She spreads her thighs and pushes down on my wrist. We have barely moved an inch.

              “Say it.” I headily demand. Looking into her face and wishing that she would keep her eyes wide open.

              “Tell me the truth, as you ride my hand. Say you came over here for sex, tell me that you’re a whore and a stupid little bitch. Say that this is all you wanted. Say that you just want me out of your head. Tell me that I’m imagining the relief I feel whenever you brush against my skin.”

              I cup her warmth in the palm of my hand. She whimpers again. My pointer finger traces circles against her entrance, my thumb petting her hot skin. She’s like velvet, and she can’t seem to get enough of my hand.

              “Say it.”

              A breathy moan escapes her pink lips.

              “Say it, Cadence. Say that all that being drawn to me stuff you said was bullshit. Say that you’re just a whore looking for attention. Tell me the truth, come on baby say it, say you didn’t mean it.” My words betray my emotions. The hate I’m feeling is purely selfish.

              She tightens under my hand. Her shoulders are pulling in until we are pressed chest to chest. She’s panting, and I’m exhausted. My entire body floods with some strange emotion when she breathes into my neck, my fingers still brushing against her tender skin. Her words are a mixture of daylight tainted with darkness.

              “But I did mean it….”

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