Authors: Olivia Lynde
I really do like the coat, but I feel so
guilty about Seth spending money on me. I raise myself on my toes and draw him
down to plant a big smooch on his cheek. He seems taken aback for a moment,
then his beautiful lips stretch into a blindingly happy smile. All for me.
He takes a card out of his wallet and
makes the payment.
Then we head to the food court. We sit
down at a small table and eat burgers while holding hands.
* * *
We are in front of Seth's apartment
building, unloading from the BMW's trunk the groceries we bought earlier.
Gazing at the shopping bags filled with
my purchases, I find myself speaking: "Seth, would you mind if I left most
of my new clothes at your place? I don't want to risk Jessica getting her
knife, err... I mean her claws, into my stuff again."
He gives me a startled look, finishes
loading his hands with grocery bags, and closes the trunk.
"Hey!" I complain. "Let
me carry something too!"
He calmly reopens the trunk and hands me
one
bag—which, incidentally, is the smallest one of all. I give him an are-you-kidding-with-me-right-now
sort of look, which he ignores. Loaded with a dozen bags himself, he heads
for the apartment. Peeved, I follow in his wake with my one tiny bag.
"Of course I won't mind if you keep
your things at my place," he tells me, seeming... satisfied. Huh? What's
up with that?
He smirks. "I like the idea of you sharing my
closet." Underneath the levity, though, he still has this considering
expression as if he were trying to figure out a way to broach a more sensitive
topic with me.
But then he frowns, as if remembering
something else. "By the way, you clearly never got along with Jessica. So
why didn't you lock your door to stop her from getting inside your room? If you
had, she couldn't have done all that damage."
I blow out a breath, frustrated.
"Yeah, well, apparently Greg doesn't believe in installing locks on inner
doors since they encourage emotional as well as physical separation, or some
such psychological nonsense. The truth is that after I moved into his house I
expressly asked him to put a lock on my door—mainly because Jessica kept coming
into my room to hound me—but he refused point-black."
Seth's face fills with rage.
"You're telling me that you can't even lock your door? You're actually
telling me that fucking bitch can enter your room whenever she wants, even when
you're asleep and most vulnerable?"
With an angry movement, he unlocks the
apartment and opens the door, stepping aside to let me enter first. We go to
the kitchen area and start to unpack the groceries.
"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm
telling you," I confirm carefully.
His expression turns steely with
determination. "You aren't staying in that house another night."
I furrow my forehead, puzzled. "I'm
not?"
"No, you're not, Sunny—because
you're moving in with me." His tone is firm with resolve. "I was
already torn about letting you sleep away from me, especially knowing about
your nightmares. But what Jessica did last night was really the last straw. So
earlier, when you asked if you could leave your clothes here, you played
exactly into my plan. I'd been wanting to talk to you about staying with me,
but I was unsure how you'd react."
Umm... shocked, confused, disbelieving?
Ecstatic?
"I already decided last night,"
he says, "that I couldn't stand by and let you go back to living in that
nest of vipers, with Jessica and her mother. And now that I know you're also in
real physical danger if you go on staying there, there's no way I'll allow that
to happen!"
So I should move in with him? I gulp.
Okay, I can't touch that right now. Easier to address another issue first.
"Come on, Seth, Jessica isn't a psychopath. She wouldn't hurt me in my
sleep."
While saying these words, however, I
realize that I am by no means convinced they are even true. I can totally picture
that hell's spawn slipping into my room in the middle of the night—precisely at
one of the rare moments when I'm actually sleeping—and slashing my face or
something. She had a really crazy glint in her eyes when she came to gloat last
evening, after she destroyed all my things. Plus, the fact that her
usually-wrapped-around-her-finger Daddy actually
fought
with her because
of me, her abhorred enemy, would have shot her loathing for me from the
stratosphere straight into the cosmos.
Seth, too, disagrees with my voiced
opinion. "Sunny, what Jessica did, tearing all your stuff to shreds—that
isn't the act of a sane person. I wouldn't want you in her house even if you
had a titanium door that you could lock in ten places to keep her away. You
told me yourself how toxic that place was for you.
"Besides, if Jessica's already gone
this far just because you took back your letters—how do you think she'll react
when she hears that you're with me now?"
Oh, lordy! I hadn't even thought of that
yet. "She won't be happy," I mutter. And that's a gargantuan
understatement, if there ever was one!
"To say the least," Seth
agrees with a terse nod. "And I don't want that bitch anywhere near you."
We've finished setting the groceries in
the fridge and the kitchen cupboards. He comes to me, places his right hand on
my nape, tips my head back. He kisses my temple softly, then trails his lips
down my cheek, giving me nibbling kisses. On reaching the corner of my mouth,
he captures my lower lip between his own, sucks it teasingly, withdraws a bit.
"I won't risk you getting
hurt," he whispers against my parted mouth, his breath falling sweetly on
my face.
"But the fosters..." I
stutter, dazed by the perfection of his lips.
He presses his mouth against my own, and
I feel his tongue caressing my lips, pushing slightly between them. My mouth
opens a bit more. He withdraws a bare inch, rasps out, "I'll take care of
your foster parents. Sunny, I know my place isn't much too look at, but it
won't always be like this, I promise. And we'll be together."
Once again he surges forward toward my
parted lips, and this time his tongue slips into my mouth—the first time he's ever
kissed me like this—and it feels strange, yet so... indescribably...
mind-blowingly...
hot
.
My arms lift around his neck and I pull
him closer, lost in his kiss. His tongue caresses the inside of my mouth, and a
moan escapes my throat. His tongue is now playing with my own, and I respond
tentatively, moving my tongue to stroke his. He moans and slowly ends the kiss.
His feverish gaze locks with my stunned
one, and his raspy voice is a sorcerer's enchantment: "Summer Moore,
my
Sunny
, will you please move in with me?"
Without the slightest uncertainty, I
say, "Yes." A thousand times yes!
His eyes blaze with satisfaction and joy,
and he swoops in for another mind-bending kiss.
Later, after we reluctantly disentangle
ourselves from each other, Seth goes back to the car to bring the rest of the
shopping bags inside. I go with him and try to help, but just like the first
time, he doesn't let me carry anything heavier than five pounds. Heavens, he
really has it bad!
W
e decide to go that very night and
talk with Greg.
Holy smoke, I still have trouble
believing this actually happened, that Seth asked me and I agreed to stay with
him at his place. But I truly want this, so very much! Not because I'm afraid
of Jessica—though getting away from her poison is definitely a major attraction—but
because I genuinely want to be with Seth. God, how I want it!
After spending the past two days with
him, I haven't the least doubt about my decision to live with him. I want the
security and the restfulness and the pure
happiness
that only he can
give me. For the short time that I can still have it.
I want Seth.
I realize that our relationship may seem
like it's moving too fast; I became his girlfriend just the other night, and
less than 24 hours later, I'm thinking of moving in with him. But this isn't
your run-of-the-mill relationship. We aren't a regular couple. And for us, this
doesn't
feel
rushed or thoughtless.
How it feels is natural and necessary.
And
right
.
We've known and loved each other
practically our entire lives, and I trust Seth unconditionally. It's true that
my love for him has added new layers recently, but that too feels natural. It
feels like we were always meant for each other.
So nothing had better stand in our way!
Seth has parked his BMW in front of the
Andersons' residence.
Alighting from the car, he strides round
its front and opens my door on the passenger side. I clasp his waiting palm and
rise from my seat. Holding hands, we then walk up to the house entrance. I make
to search for my key, but he stops me with a headshake and presses the doorbell
instead.
"Stop trembling!" he orders in
a low tone. "It'll be all right."
"I'm not trembling." I'm
totally trembling! But I can't help it, I'm so very nervous! How couldn't I be
when the stakes for which Seth and I are about to battle are so high?!
He lifts his free hand to my face,
stroking my cheek. "Sunny, I'm here with you. Trust me, okay?"
I look into his eyes, lean into his touch,
and feel the tension seep out of me. I give a small nod. Of course I trust him.
The door opens, framing Greg. He looks
at us in polite inquiry.
"Yes? Can I help—?" He trails
off as belated recognition dawns on his face. "Summer?" He gives me a
quick onceover, then a second one. "You look... different." He seems
bowled over.
I shuffle my feet, uncomfortable with
the scrutiny. "Thanks. I went shopping for some new clothes today."
I'm wearing my new skinny jeans, a light
blue undershirt beneath a form-fitting violet v-blouse, and my dark gray coat.
My hair is up in a high ponytail, with a few tendrils left loose and curling
around my face. On the way here, I also put on some raspberry-flavored lip
gloss.
Judging by Seth's many admiring glances
at me, I look fine (in fact, when I asked him if I looked okay, before heading
here, he told me I was "too damn sexy for my—and especially his—own good",
and proceeded to prove his sincerity by stealing my breath with a scorching
kiss). Judging by Greg's incredulous expression, I also look vastly different than
when he last saw me. So mission accomplished, I guess?
My foster finally manages to unfreeze
his tongue. "Why did you ring the bell, Summer? Did you forget your
key?"
"I'm here with Seth," I state
in lieu of a real answer.
He steps in at once. "Mr. Anderson,
I'm Seth Lewis, and we'd like to talk with you." His tone is polite, but
just underneath the civility, a thread of steel can be heard distinctly.
Greg raises an eyebrow in renewed
surprise and steps back. "Of course. Please come inside."
We enter the living room together, and I
immediately catch sight of Louise sitting on the couch. On noticing us, she
rises to her feet slowly. When her gaze falls on me, her mouth tightens
perceptibly and her eyes frost over. Seth gives my hand an encouraging squeeze;
he's obviously caught Louise's reaction.
"What's the meaning of this?"
she asks.
Greg throws her an abstracted glance.
"It's fine, Louise. Summer and her friend want to speak to me." Then,
turning to us: "Shall we move to the library?"
"Wait, I'll join you!" she
interposes quickly.
Seth looks her straight in the eye.
"I apologize, Mrs. Anderson, but Summer and I need to talk with your
husband in private. I hope you won't mind." He smiles at her winningly.
"It'll only take a few minutes."
I recognize that his smile is no more
than a shallow facsimile and that his eyes are cold, but Louise is nevertheless
dazzled. This boy is truly out of this world gorgeous, and even stick-in-the-mud
Louise isn't immune. I swear, if he could bottle his extreme hotness and charm
and sell them on the Internet, he'd make millions overnight.
Exposed to just a particle of Seth's
lethal allure, Louise starts tripping over her tongue. "Yes, yes, of
course, I only thought—"
Seth promptly turns back to Greg with an
expectant look, and I see that my foster father is regarding him with new-found
respect. He leads us into the library, where he sinks into an armchair while my
boy and I sit down on the small couch opposite.
Greg's eyes flash to our clasped hands,
then back to Seth's face. "Mr. Lewis, do please tell me what this is all
about." He furrows his brow in reflection. "Your name sounds very
familiar, but I can't quite place it yet."
Seth is watching the foster intently,
trying to take his measure, I suppose. He replies, "You probably know my
name because you bought this house from my mother, Janice Lewis."