Finding Our Reality (The Reality Duet #2)

Chapter 35

ELLA

I strum my fingers on the dashboard of Ry’s old truck—his grandfather’s truck. It’s always the vehicle we take for surprises.

After absorbing the massive heap of information I just threw his way, Ry checked his watch, jumped up, and asked if I felt like a surprise. What did I say? I said yes.

Of course, I said yes.

We drove into town, stopped at the store, and bought a bunch of random items—toiletries, food products, socks, books, school supplies, unisex sweatshirts, blankets. He bought a gigantic storage container to put everything in. He had me pack it all. It was a tight fit. I had to arrange everything like a puzzle and, even now, the lid won’t close. Items are spilling from the top. It’s so heavy, I don’t even know how he can carry it.

Well, I’ve seen his muscles so technically, I know how he can carry it.

We’ve been sitting across the road from a small one-story house for about ten minutes now. The outside is trimmed and neat, but you can tell it’s in need of some maintenance. The front columns and windowsills have peeling paint, the side wooden gate is broken, and the roof is missing a few shingles.

“So, do you ever plan on telling me what we’re doing here? And why we have to wait until midnight to do whatever it is we’re gonna do?” I ask.

“A single mom and her two kids live here. Her oldest was brought into the station for shoplifting. He’s fourteen. He was let go with a warning.”

“What did he steal?” I fully expect him to say a video game or a phone or an expensive pair of tennis shoes.

“Deodorant.”

“Deodorant?”

He rubs his fingers across his lips. “Yeah. His little brother just turned twelve. His hormones have changed, and he was starting to get body odor. He needed some deodorant to carry to gym class. His mom didn’t have the money to buy extra toiletries until her next payday. The little guy was terrified of smelling after gym class, so his big brother tried to steal some deodorant for him.”

My heart skips a beat. How awful. I think I have three different sticks of deodorant at my house right now, simply because I like to change the scent each day. A fog of shame drapes across my shoulders like a cloak. “That family lives here?”

“Yeah. The mom works full time as a receptionist at a small insurance company. Still, her salary alone isn’t enough to pay for all the bills and buy two growing kids everything they need.”

“Do you do this often? Buy things for needy families you meet at the station?”

“I want to, but I force myself to only do it a couple of times a year. If I didn’t limit myself, I would probably go broke.”

The moonlight bounces through the truck, shading him in a pale white light. He’s so handsome. After all these years, he’s done nothing but grow sexier. Edgier. I glance away before my desire becomes too much to bear. “When do you normally do it? Christmastime?”

“I’ll usually deliver one at Christmas, one at Easter, and one tonight.”

I furrow my brow. “Why tonight?”

“Well, I always wait until 12:01 to drop it off, so I guess you can call it tomorrow.”

“Why?”

He smirks. “Don’t you know what tomorrow is?”

I cock my head. “Sunday.”

“No, the date. What’s tomorrow’s date, Lulu?”

My eyes roll back in my head while I think about the actual date. It only takes two seconds for it to click. My hand flies to my mouth, covering my gasp. “Carrie’s birthday.”

He doesn’t say anything, he just reaches across the bench seat and runs his hand across my thigh, leaving tingles in his wake.

“You do this each year for my sister’s birthday?”

“A long time ago, you said you wanted to do something special to remember Carrie each year. And you said you didn’t want it to be on the anniversary of her disappearance, you said that wasn’t something to celebrate. I agree; it isn’t. So I do this each year. On her birthday.”

“Thirty-three. Carrie’s turning thirty-three.” Moisture collects in the corner of my eyes. I can’t believe he does this. I can’t believe he does this for me.

And her.

He picks up his cell phone from the seat and lights up the home screen, showing me the time. 12:00 midnight. I hold my breath, counting the seconds until it turns to 12:01. Wordlessly, he climbs from the truck and pulls the large container from the truck bed. I spin in my seat, watching him. He tries to balance the lid on top and then tosses it to the side when he gets frustrated with it. My giggle is cut off when he grunts loudly under the weight of the heavy box. He walks across the street, up the chipped sidewalk, and gently sets the container on the small front porch. He rings the doorbell—just one time—walks back down the sidewalk, and jumps in the truck. He doesn’t wait for anyone to come to the door. He just drives away.

“You don’t watch them open it?”

He studies the road in front of him. “Of course not, that’s a private moment. Giving a hand-out is one thing. Having people witness it is a completely different thing. Before my grandparents took me, I had some teachers who would try to give me things. They weren’t very good at hiding their efforts, though, and the other kids would make fun of me for being poor. I never want to make anyone feel that way. That’s why I do this in the middle of the night. By the time they get out of bed and make it to the door, I’m gone.”

I always knew Ry was a good person. Even when I hated him, I knew his heart was filled with nothing but pure intentions. But this? Remembering my sister’s birthday? Celebrating it like this? This is something on a whole new level.

With every mile he drives, my nerves and anxiety build. By the time he parks the truck in his driveway in front of my SUV, I’m so on-edge, I feel like either throwing up or passing out. I know he feels the tension, feels the electricity. There’s no way to avoid it. It’s like walking through a minefield, holding your breath, and waiting for an explosion.

How much longer can I fight this? Fight my attraction?

Before Laura called out that night, I was ready to give myself to him. Ready to break down the fortress I built around me so long ago. And he wanted it too.

He wanted to take from me. He wanted to give to me.

He wanted me .

And then… he found out about Reality.

I honestly have no idea where that leaves us. I lied to him. For years. I have no idea if he’ll ever forgive me.

Does he want me? He’s touched my thigh, he’s kissed my temple, he’s let me caress his back.

Was that all just comfort? Or attraction?

History? Or future?

He opens my door and offers his hand. When my skin touches his, my stomach twists in knots. I shut the door, but he doesn’t move out of my way. I lean back against the truck. I’m wearing a tank top, and my bare shoulders stick against the window. Stepping forward, he traps me, eclipsing my body with his. He lifts his arms, gripping the roof of the truck. My eyes run the length of his body, charting every thick band of muscle.

Just like this.

We were standing just like this the very first time he kissed me. The very first time his lips found mine.

But he doesn’t kiss me now.

He’s not doing anything.

My eyes grow wide and I blink. The silence feels heavy, like a weighted blanket, suffocating me. I need to fill the silence. “Tell me something. Something no one else knows.”

His gaze darts down my body and back up, pausing at my breasts, pausing at my lips, before finally settling on my eyes. “I’m an asshole. You’ve been through so much. I made your life hell. I wanted to do the right thing, but instead, I did the wrong thing. After all you’ve been through, you should hate me. But I don’t want you to hate me. I want you to wrap your arms around me, I want you to kiss me, I want you to spread your legs for me.”

My breath quickens, spurting from my chest in short, shallow convulsions.

He licks his lips. “I want you to spread your legs so I can bury myself deep inside you. I wanna feel your hot pussy around me. I wanna hear you scream. I wanna make you come so hard you completely forget the pain I caused you.”

He takes a step closer, rubbing his hard erection across my body. I shudder in delight.

“I’ve waited twelve long years to be inside of you, and I don’t think I can wait another second. I’m dying.” He leans down, brushing his lips across the shell of my ear. “So, see, like I said, I’m an asshole.”

He slowly leans back, giving me some space. He’s still looming over me, but he’s given me enough space to make my own decision.

But my decision was already made. A long time ago. On the back porch of a drug dealer’s trailer.

I reach for him, grabbing wildly, blinded by my own crushing desire. The moan leaving my lips is feral, animalistic. I need him. I need him more than I need air to breathe.

And he doesn’t need more of an invitation than that.

He grabs the back of my head and crashes his mouth against mine. Instantly, the stress, pain, and grief of last night and tonight drain from my body. He absorbs it, takes it from me, shoulders the burden himself. The sensation of his tongue in my mouth sends waves of carnal pleasure shooting low in my stomach. My panties dampen and my clit throbs.

My hands slide underneath his shirt, roaming over every inch of his taut skin. When my fingers wrap around the firm V-shaped muscles of his hips, I tug his groin against me. I rise to my tiptoes.

Friction.

I need friction.

A low growl purrs from his throat. Grabbing my ass, he effortlessly lifts me from the ground, spinning me around as he turns. I hook my ankles around him. Pulling his lips from mine, he peers over my shoulder and starts walking to the house.

My mind races with excitement. This is happening. This is actually happening.

Concern immediately floods my mind, and I scramble down from his arms. “Stop. Let me down. Ry. Stop.”

It takes a few seconds for my words to sink in. His jaw slacks open. Even in the dark, I can see the flush of his face, the puffiness of his swollen lips. He carefully places my feet back on the ground. His voice is soaked in agony, coated in pure suffering. He rakes his hands through his hair. “Fuck. I’m so sorry, Lulu. I shouldn’t have done that. You’ve been through too much tonight. I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“Do you have sex with women here?”

He shakes his head in confusion. “What?”

“You’ve slept with a lot of women. Did you have sex with them here? In your bedroom?”

He looks like I just slapped him across the face. That wasn’t my intention. I just worded my question poorly. But in my defense, I’m not thinking properly, all of my blood flow has been diverted to my crotch.

“Of course not. This is your house. I built this for you, for the memory of us. I would never defile it. I would never bring another woman here.”

Skirting past him, I race back to the truck. Sure, I haven’t looked in the glove box of his grandfather’s truck lately, but if it’s like his other truck, it’s stocked with condoms. Sure enough, a pile of loose condoms is scattered throughout the glove box. I grab a handful of the foil packets and slam the door. “Then we’ll need these. You won’t have condoms in your bedroom.”

His laugh catches me off guard. It’s pure and light and sexy as hell. He holds out his arms and I eagerly jump into them. He quickly punches a code into the keypad by the front door, unlocking it, and races up the stairs two at a time. I take the opportunity to kiss his neck. I take no prisoners, branding him and marking him with hickeys. He bursts through the bedroom door like a tornado.

I shimmy down his body and toss the condoms on the nightstand. I’m simultaneously kicking off my shoes and pulling my tank top over my head. Clothes fly left and right, and Ry’s so distracted when I remove my bra, he trips over the bedroom rug and has to lean against the dresser to stop himself from face planting on the floor. By this point, we’re both standing in just our underwear.

There’s a small lamp on in the corner of the room, and I’m so glad that there’s some light in here. I’m so glad that I’m able to see him. I flick my head in his direction. “You first.”

He’s breathing so fast, the muscles of his six-pack undulate like an alien is trying to rip through his body. Grabbing the band of his boxer briefs, he shoves his underwear to the ground, freeing his massive erection. His body is epic perfection. Better than my memories, better than my dreams, better than my fantasies. It’s like the sexy man of my youth was just a tiny precursor for what he would become. The velvet hardness of his cock makes my mouth water. It’s thick and engorged, tinted with the most wonderful reddish-purple hue from the blood coursing within.

I can’t take it anymore. I’m a fidgety mess. I should be worried about my love handles, about my stretch marks, about my thighs. But I’m not. My only worry is satisfying this need that is scorching me from the inside out. My palm covers my mound, pressing firmly against the fabric of my panties. I need pressure. It’s the only way I can function.

He grabs himself, pumping over the length of his shaft. “What are you doing, Lulu?”

I lift my head, staring deeply into his pale green eyes. “I’m throbbing. I need the pressure. I can’t make it even one more minute.”

“Take off your panties.”

I smirk. “Make me.”

In one split second, he crosses the room and tosses me backward on the bed. I laugh and squirm, choking on my giggle when his fingers drag the soaking wet fabric down my legs. He studies the white cream covering the gusset. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply. Before tossing them away, his tongue reaches out and licks the moisture from the cotton.

Holy hell. It was hot then. And it’s just as hot now. “I remember the first time you did that.”

“Well, do you remember the first time I did this?” He immediately pushes two fingers inside of me, instantly finding the sweet spots he spent hours mapping in the years of our youth. I scream. Loudly. His fingers pull out and when they gently graze my clit, I nearly come unglued.

I can’t take it. I slap his hand away. Hard.

“Ow.”

I didn’t hurt him. I just shocked him. “Enough of that. We can do that later. I need you. Now.” I lean up on my elbows, trying to enforce my threat. “Now!”

Fumbling for a condom, he knocks two of them to the ground. Tearing the foil, he rolls the latex over his dick. He barely has it in position when I’m pulling him on top of me.

“Impatient little minx, aren’t we?”

I can’t joke. I can’t laugh. It’s real now. It’s completely real. I can’t make light of this situation. I can do nothing but pant his name. “Ry.”

He gently wipes the hair from my sweaty brow, studying me with pure adoration. “I’m here, Lulu. I’m here.”

And with that, he slides into me so deeply, I don’t know how we’ll ever be separated.