All The Pretty Little Lies (Second Sons Duet #1)

27. Vesper

VESPER

I blink awake, disoriented and groggy, my heart sinking as I realize I'm alone in my bed. The sunlight streaming through the curtains tells me it's well into the morning. Memories of last night's revelations flood back, and I bolt upright, suddenly wide awake.

Hastily, I throw on a pair of worn jeans and a soft, oversized sweater, not bothering with makeup or even running a brush through my tangled blonde waves. My bare feet pad silently across the hardwood floors as I make my way to Zaire's room, hope and dread warring in my chest.

The door creaks open to reveal an empty, perfectly made bed. My stomach clenches. Where are they? Why aren't they back yet?

Trying to quell the rising panic, I move to Oscar's door, my knuckles rapping against the solid wood before I push it open.

"Oz?" I call out, my voice rough from lack of sleep.

Oscar doesn't answer. My heart races as I step fully into his room, the plush carpet soft beneath my bare feet. The sound of running water grows louder, punctuated by occasional splashes. I approach the bathroom door, my hand hovering uncertainly before I rap my knuckles against the sleek wood.

"Oscar?" I call again, louder this time.

His voice, muffled by the shower's spray, finally responds. "Come in, Vesper."

I hesitate for a moment, then turn the handle. A wave of warm, humid air washes over me as I enter. The bathroom is filled with steam, the mirror is completely fogged over. The shower enclosure is frosted glass, but I can make out Oscar's silhouette behind it.

Oscar's silhouette shifts, and the glass door slides open, revealing his muscular form glistening with water droplets. His piercing blue eyes lock onto mine, a mix of concern and something darker swirling in their depths.

My breath catches in my throat as Oscar steps out of the shower, water cascading down his chiseled body. He doesn't reach for a towel, instead holding my gaze with an intensity that makes my skin tingle.

"Join me," he says, his voice low and husky. It's not quite a question, but not quite a command either.

I hesitate for a moment, my heart pounding. Oscar could drag me in there if he wanted to, but instead, I watch him as he patiently awaits my answer. Without saying a word, I peel off my clothes, letting them fall to the tile floor. My answer is unspoken but clear. Oscar's eyes darken as they roam over my exposed skin. He extends his hand, and I take it, allowing him to guide me into the shower.

The warm spray envelops us as Oscar presses me against the cool tile wall. His lips find mine in a searing kiss, urgent and demanding. I respond with equal fervor, my fingers tangling in his wet hair. His hands explore my body, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

Oscar breaks the kiss, trailing his lips along my jawline and down my neck. I gasp as he nips at my pulse point, my back arching. The contrast of the cold tiles against my back and Oscar's hot skin pressed against my front sends shivers down my spine.

"Oz," I breathe, my voice barely audible over the sound of the shower.

Oscar's lips continue their journey downward, leaving a trail of heated kisses along my collarbone and between my breasts. My breath quickens as he drops to his knees before me, his strong hands caressing my thighs. He looks up at me, his blue eyes dark with desire, silently asking permission.

I nod, barely able to breathe as Oscar gently lifts one of my legs over his shoulder. His other hand wraps around my waist, steadying me as I lean back against the cool tile wall for support. The warm water cascades over us, creating a cocoon of steam and sensation.

Oscar's tongue traces delicate patterns along my inner thigh, inching closer to where I ache for him. I tangle my fingers in his wet hair, my body trembling with anticipation.

He pulls me towards him, burying his face in my lap. Once his mouth finally makes contact, I gasp, my head falling back against the wall with a soft thud.

“Oh god.”

The world narrows to this moment, this sensation. Oscar's tongue works magic, alternating between teasing flicks and long, languid strokes. My fingers tighten in his hair as waves of pleasure crash over me. The steam swirls around us, making everything hazy and dreamlike.

"Oh god," I breathe again, my voice barely audible over the sound of falling water.

Oscar pulls back slightly, his blue eyes intense as they lock onto mine. "Goddess," he corrects me, his breath hot against my sensitive skin. "The only god in this room is you, my goddess.”

With that, he dives back in with renewed fervor. I gasp, my back arching as I press myself closer to his eager mouth. My leg tightens around his shoulder, drawing him in deeper. I lean heavily against the wall, grateful for its support as my knees grow weak. Oscar's strong hands grip my hips, holding me steady as he continues his relentless assault on my senses. His tongue swirls and flicks, finding every spot that makes me moan and shudder.

The steam thickens around us, turning the bathroom into our own private sanctuary. Water droplets cling to my skin, mingling with the sweat beading on my forehead. I'm panting now, my chest heaving as Oscar brings me closer and closer to the edge.

“Oz," I whimper, my voice thick with need. "Please..."

He responds by redoubling his efforts, his fingers digging into my hips as he pulls me even closer. The coil of tension within me winds tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment. I'm trembling now, every muscle in my body taut with anticipation.

And then, with one final, perfectly placed stroke of his tongue, I shatter. A cry tears from my throat as pleasure explodes through me, white-hot and all-consuming. My body shakes uncontrollably, held up only by Oscar's firm grip and the unyielding wall at my back.

Oscar doesn't let up, drawing out my pleasure until I'm gasping and oversensitive. Only then does he slowly, reverently, place a final kiss against my inner thigh before rising to his feet. He gathers me in his arms, supporting my trembling body as the warm water continues to cascade over us both.

"I want to worship every inch of your body. You're so beautiful, so perfect.”

He lifts me effortlessly, and I wrap my legs around his waist. Our bodies join in a fluid motion, eliciting a moan from both of us. Oscar sets a steady rhythm, each thrust driving me higher. The steam swirls around us, heightening every sensation.

Oscar digs his fingers into my hips, driving the motion between us with increasing intensity. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through my body, building upon the aftershocks of my previous climax. The steam swirls around us, creating a dreamlike haze that amplifies every sensation.

I cling to his broad shoulders, my nails leaving crescent marks on his skin as I struggle to ground myself in the onslaught of sensations.

“Mark me, my goddess. Make me yours,” he demands.

Oscar's lips find mine in a searing kiss, swallowing my moans as he continues to move within me. His tongue mimics the rhythm of our bodies, stoking the fire that burns ever hotter in my core. I break away, gasping for air, my head falling back against the shower wall with a soft thud.

"Look at me," Oscar commands, his voice low and husky.

I force my eyes open, meeting his intense gaze. The blue of his irises is nearly swallowed by his dilated pupils, dark with desire. The vulnerability and raw emotion I see there takes my breath away.

Oscar shifts slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts. A cry escapes my lips as he hits a spot deep inside me that sends sparks shooting through my veins. My legs tighten around his waist, urging him deeper, harder.

"That's it, Vesper," he growls, his breath hot against my ear. "Let me hear you."

His words unlock something within me, and I stop holding back. My cries of pleasure echo off the tiled walls, mingling with the sound of falling water and Oscar's own grunts and groans. The coil of tension in my core winds tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment.

Oscar's movements become more erratic, his control slipping as he chases his own release. One of his hands leaves my hip, sliding between our bodies to find the sensitive bundle of nerves at my center. His skilled fingers work in tandem with his thrusts, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

Oscar commands, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Come with me, Vesper."

His words, combined with a particularly deep thrust and a clever flick of his fingers, send me careening over the edge. My second orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave, even more intense than the first. I cry out Oscar's name as my body convulses around him, wave after wave of pleasure washing over me.

Oscar follows me over the precipice with a guttural groan, his hips jerking erratically as he finds his own release. We cling to each other, trembling and gasping, as the warm water continues to rain down upon us.

As the last tremors of our shared climax subside, Oscar gently lowers me to my feet. My legs feel like jelly, and I'm grateful for his strong arms supporting me. The warm water continues to cascade over us, washing away the evidence of our passion.

Oscar reaches for the shampoo, and I close my eyes as he begins to massage it into my scalp. His fingers work through my long blonde hair, carefully untangling any knots. The scent of sandalwood fills the steamy air, and I can't help but lean into his touch.

"Turn around," he murmurs, and I comply, letting the spray rinse the suds from my hair. Oscar's hands glide over my body, cleaning every inch with reverent care. It's intimate in a different way than our lovemaking, soft and tender.

When he's finished, I return the favor, my hands exploring the planes and valleys of his muscular form. We take our time, trading gentle kisses and lingering touches until the water begins to cool.

Oscar steps out first, wrapping a fluffy towel around his waist before holding one out for me. I step into his embrace, sighing contentedly as he pats me dry. He presses a kiss to my forehead before leading me back into his bedroom.

I watch as he rummages through his dresser, pulling out a soft, well-worn t-shirt. "Here," he says, holding it out to me. "Wear this instead of your sweater. It's going to be a hot day."

I slip the shirt over my head, inhaling deeply. It smells like him. The fabric falls to mid-thigh, and I can't help but feel a surge of possessiveness at wearing his clothes.

Oscar helps me into my jeans, his fingers trailing along my legs as he pulls them up. Once I'm dressed, he gently turns me around, gathering my wet hair in his hands.

"Let me," he says softly, beginning to twist my hair into a bun. His fingers work deftly, securing the style with ease. As he finishes, a nagging worry resurfaces in my mind.

"Oz," I begin, turning to face him. "Where are Zaire and Alex? Z wasn't in his room when I checked earlier."

Oscar's expression softens, a mix of concern and something else I can't quite place flickering across his features. He takes my hand, gently guiding me. The plush carpet sinks beneath our bare feet as he leads me to the edge of his bed.

“They found something, didn’t they?” I guess.

“Yes. I wanted to tell you last night, but by the time Z had called, you had already fallen asleep. You were sleeping so well that I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Zaire and Alex are okay, right?”

“They’re both fine. I checked in with Zaire this morning.”

A sigh of relief escapes my lips, but the look on Oscar’s face tells me there’s more he needs to tell me. “What did they find?”

Oscar takes a deep breath, his blue eyes filled with a mix of concern and determination. "Vesper, they found the records from your egg retrievals while you were held captive."

My heart skips a beat, and I feel the blood drain from my face. The memories I've tried so hard to suppress come flooding back. The cold, clinical rooms. The endless injections. The fear and uncertainty that plagued me every moment of my captivity.

Oscar's warm hand envelops mine, anchoring me to the present. His thumb traces soothing circles on my skin as he continues, his voice gentle but steady. "They attempted to create embryos multiple times, but according to the records, none of them survived until about ten months ago."

I suck in a sharp breath, my mind reeling with the implications. "Ten months ago?" I whisper, my voice barely audible. "What happened then?"

Oscar's grip on my hand tightens slightly, his eyes never leaving mine. "According to the records, two embryos were successfully created at that time. A male and a female."

I struggle to breathe, my mind reeling with the implications. Somewhere out there, frozen in time, are two potential lives. My potential children. Children created without my knowledge or consent, but my flesh and blood, nonetheless.

"Where are they now?" I manage to ask, my throat tight with emotion. "The embryos, I mean."

"They were stored at the clinic," Oscar replies, his grip on my hand tightening slightly. "But, Zaire and Alex checked the tank. They weren’t there.”

A cold dread settles in the pit of my stomach. "They weren't there?" I repeat, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Your file was accessed three days ago by a Dr. Ivanov. Does that name ring a bell to you?"

“No,” I shake my head. “They never used names, and always had masks on. They had me so sedated, I’m not sure I would have recognized myself if they'd given me a mirror.”

“I figured that would be the case,” Oscar nods, his thumb still tracing soothing circles on the back of my hand. "Zaire and Alex are staying in New York. They're trying to track the doctor down."

“How long will they be gone?"

“As long as it takes.”

I nod, trying to process this information. Logically, I know Zaire being away is the right thing. They need to be there to track down the doctor, to uncover the truth about what happened to those embryos, my embryos. But a part of me, a selfish, needy part, hates that he's so far away. I miss his presence, his warmth, the way his lips quirk up in that half-smile when he catches me looking at him.

Oscar seems to sense my inner turmoil. He releases my hand and moves to the nightstand, retrieving something from the drawer. When he turns back to me, I see he's holding a sleek, new smartphone.

"This is for you," he says, placing it in my palm. The device feels foreign and heavy in my hand, a tangible reminder of how much my life has changed. "Our numbers are already programmed into it. Zaire has this number. He'll reach out when he can."

I run my thumb over the smooth screen, a lump forming in my throat. It's a lifeline, a connection to the men who have become my world. I clutch it to my chest as if I could somehow hold them closer through this small piece of technology.

"Thank you," I whisper, looking up at Oscar. His blue eyes are soft with understanding, and I'm struck again by how much I've come to rely on him, on both of them.

The sunlight streaming through the window catches on Oscar's hair, turning it to burnished gold. It reminds me of lazy Sunday mornings and stolen kisses, of safety and warmth. I want to lose myself in that feeling, to forget about the complications and dangers that lurk just beyond these walls.

But I can't. Not when part of me is missing, not when Zaire is out there, putting himself at risk for my sake. Not when there are so many unanswered questions about those embryos, my potential children.

I take a deep breath, inhaling the lingering scent of Oscar's cologne mixed with the fresh, clean smell of his recently showered skin. It grounds me and reminds me that I'm not alone in this.

"He'll be okay," Oscar says, as if reading my thoughts. "Z's resourceful, and he's got Alex watching his back."

I nod, trying to convince myself as much as to acknowledge his words. "I know. I just...I wish he was here. Both of them."

Oscar wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. I lean into him, drawing strength from his solid presence. "We'll get through this together," he murmurs into my hair. "All of us."

I nod, managing a small smile as I look up at Oscar. His eyes, those piercing blue orbs that seem to see right through me, are filled with warmth and understanding. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead before pulling back slightly.

"How about some breakfast?" he suggests, his voice gentle. "I make a mean omelet."

The thought of food makes my stomach growl, reminding me that I haven't eaten since yesterday. "That sounds perfect," I reply, grateful for the distraction.

Oscar stands, offering me his hand. I take it, letting him pull me to my feet. The soft carpet gives way to cool hardwood as we make our way out of the bedroom and down the hallway. The house is quiet, our footsteps and the distant chirping of birds outside the only sounds breaking the morning stillness.

As we enter the kitchen, sunlight streams through the large windows, bathing everything in a warm, golden glow. The polished granite countertops gleam and the stainless steel appliances reflect the light, creating a dazzling display. Oscar moves with practiced ease, pulling ingredients from the fridge and gathering utensils.

I perch on one of the high stools at the kitchen island, watching as he cracks eggs into a bowl with one hand, his movements fluid and confident. The sharp tap of eggshell against the bowl's rim punctuates the peaceful morning air.

Suddenly, a soft 'ding' breaks through the quiet. My heart leaps as I realize it's coming from the new phone Oscar gave me. With slightly trembling fingers, I pull it from my pocket, swiping to unlock the screen.

A text message pops up, and my breath catches in my throat as I read the words:

Missing you, my queen.

It's from Zaire. Four simple words, but they send a rush of warmth through my entire body. I can almost hear his voice, low and husky, whispering them in my ear. A smile spreads across my face, wide and genuine, the first real one since I woke up this morning.

Oscar glances over from where he's whisking the eggs, a knowing look in his eyes. "Let me guess," he says, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Z?"

I nod, unable to wipe the grin from my face. "He says he misses me."

Oscar's lips quirk up in a half-smile, his eyes softening. "Of course he does. You're impossible not to miss, Vesper."