Fighting Fate (Endgame #4) Read online

  “I want to find a lingerie store.” Her body jolts from the bed.

  “Avery?” Her head dips and her eyebrows wiggle. I roll my eyes. “Something you want to share?”

  “No.” I hop up and scurry to the bathroom. She may be a lot of things, but she isn’t dense. If the word no comes from my mouth— she knows I won’t break the seal and spill the secrets.

  I take extra time with my makeup and force myself to unwind. I’m not sure how much I’m ready to divulge— if anything. She rushes through getting ready, gorgeous in her natural beauty. “Let’s go.”

  I’m in luck, she and Mason make the breakfast pass by in warp speed, making sexual innuendos with every fucking piece of food they pile on their plates. Sometimes I’m positive Mason is still a fifteen-year-old and has infected Lee Lee with his moronic behavior. But, that isn’t true— you can’t force Lee Lee to do anything— unless your name is Adriane. “Has anyone heard from DD?” I ask everyone, focusing on the silent asshole beside me.

  “No. I texted him this morning.” Caden answers with a mouth full of pancakes. “What are y’all doing today?”

  “Going to buy Aves some sexy undergarments.” Lee Lee volunteers the information and I want to wring her neck. Caden’s eyes narrow, while Mason throws his fork down. Here we go.

  “No. Hell no.” Mason is forceful and turning a nice shade of tomato. Caden pushes back from the table and storms off.

  “Bye.” Lee Lee jumps up and grabs me, hauling me from the restaurant.

  “I could kill you.” I seethe.

  “They need to realize you have to grow up sometime. Be glad it was those two— if we added Deacon in the mix you’d be locked in the room like Rapunzel and I’d be helpless to stop you from turning into a spinster. And you’d be all alone because you’re allergic to cats.”

  “Fuck off, Lee Lee.” I can’t help but giggle . . . and the nerves start. The reactions at breakfast were over the top and leave me unsettled. “Do you all see me as a baby?” I’m the youngest, but only by six months.

  “Yes. But not in a bad way. You’re an idealist, and we’re all realists. You live in paints and colors, seeing the world still as a beautiful place. We’re all a bit more jaded.”

  I don’t get this comparison. “We’re eighteen, live in a gated community, drive brand new cars, and don’t want for anything— how are y’all jaded?”

  “Aves.” I hate when she uses that tone. “Experience. Broken hearts. I’m not saying we’re cynical and have this hard life, but nothing has touched you. You still think buying winter coats will fix the homeless by keeping them warm at night. There’s more to it than that.”

  “I know that.” And I do. It’s just something I don’t choose to focus on. I don’t have my head stuck in the sand, but if you stop looking at the beauty in things, all you’ll see is the ugly in everything and I don’t want that darkness. It’s something I don’t think I could escape from.

  “Blue. I think you’d be stunning in blue.” She brushes off the melancholy mood our conversation was veering and leads me into a lingerie store. The giddiness and excitement overwhelm me as I formulate a plan to seduce him.

  Let’s see if next time he can stop at measly kisses. If it isn’t enough to satisfy me I know he’s going to combust with frustration.

  If there is a next time. Damn, I’m as naïve as they all accuse me of being. Yet, here I am, purchasing pretty things for someone who may never see me in them. I’ll call it hopeful and not innocent.

  Chapter Two

  “Should I make myself scarce tonight?” Lee Lee asks while coating her lashes with mascara.

  “What?” I scrunch my nose. We still have two nights here and I’m itching to get home so I can paint.

  “You wanted to go to a lingerie store . . . I saw you with Zander yesterday in the bar. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together.”

  “And you’re sure it equals four?” Her finger telling me I’m number one is her response. “You don’t have to go anywhere Lee Lee. I’m hanging here for the night.” And I was. I was foolish to think anything would come from last night— I haven’t heard a word from him.

  “Come hang with us, Aves. This is our last hoorah before graduation.” She applies her whore-red lipstick— forever trying to act like something she isn’t. Her fucking walls and façade are gonna crash and burn one day. I don’t want a front row seat to that clusterfuck.

  “From high school, dipshit. We aren’t moving into the retirement community next week.” I roll my eyes. All my friends have this grab life by the horns— live it to the fullest mentality and I get that. I just don’t participate in it. Hell, Deacon is paying the price for that practice. A baby. Coming before his high school graduation. I’m excited and nervous— if anyone can do it, he can . . . but his choice in a baby mamma is lacking. Living life like there’s no tomorrow can result in a busted condom . . . but remaining a virgin for my entire life isn’t an option.

  “Damn it, Avery. You’re stubborn. Come with us and have some drinks.” I wrinkle my nose, wondering if she uttered those words.

  “Stubborn? I don’t think I was the one who fasted in sixth grade, refusing to eat until Mr. Douglas took me to the hospital for a feeding tube. Over fucking spinach. That color green didn’t work for you.” I mimic her reasoning. “Or wait . . . that one-woman protest you staged in ninth grade because the cafeteria ran out of chocolate milkshakes. One fucking day. One. You lost your mind and now we don’t have milkshakes— any flavor. But keep buying what you’re selling.” She’s delusional. But, she’s also my best friend. Heart of gold— but misplaced ninety nine percent of the time. To love Emberlee Winchester is to hate her at times. I shrug and pick up the room service menu. “Look, they have chocolate milkshakes here. Maybe I should order them all so when you get a craving, they’ll be out. Will you stage a sit in in the lobby? Refuse to shave? Recruit some cult members to follow you?” I laugh at her irrational behavior.

  “You’re a bitch.” She manages to accuse me between laughing— at her expense.

  “But, I’m your bitch.” I wink.

  “Don’t forget it. Ride or die.” She slips into her heels, looking gorgeous. “Still staying in?”

  “I have this image in my head I want to sketch.” I nod to my paper and charcoal pencils. She shakes her head, knowing how I get when art pops into my mind. I lose myself, and all sense of time and surroundings.

  “One day, Avery Michaels, I’m gonna see your paintings at famous museums. People are gonna be like ‘Mona Lisa’ who?” I stare at her for a few seconds before the laughter takes hold.

  “You know ‘Mona Lisa’ is the name of the paining— not the artist. Leonardo da Vinci is the artist. Ring any bells?” How she passed Humanities last year is mind-boggling.

  “He cut his ear off, right?” God, how are we friends?

  “No. That was Vincent van Gogh. Leave. Get out. Go kill the rest of your brain cells.” I throw a pillow at her and giggle as she stumbles trying to avoid it.

  “Do you care if I stay in Mason’s room?” I roll my eyes.

  “I’m not your mom. I knew when we agreed to share a room and the guys got separate rooms I wouldn’t see you at night. Those are fornicating hours to you.” I harass.

  “One day you’ll get it. Self-induced orgasms are alright . . . but when you have the real thing you’ll fiend for them.”

  She says shit to shock me— but it doesn’t. Just because I still have a hymen doesn’t mean I’m a prude. “I’ve actually met someone. I went through a dating site a few weeks ago. I’m meeting him in Dubai next week. Dom/Sub and Master/Slave dot com is amazing.” Her mouth falls ajar as she stares. “I’m not against sex . . . but last I checked my calendar, nobody is knocking at my door trying to strip me of my virtue.”

  “If you didn’t let the guys act like cavemen and scare off anyone interested, you might.”

  I belly laugh at her comedic routine. “That’s rich coming from someone
who is fucking one of the guys. You have no clue how they are. There is no stopping them. If you were trying to fuck anyone else . . . you’d see. Try it tonight and let me know how that works for you.” I deadpan. I can’t wait to hear her opinions on controlling their bossy asses. It will enlighten her— a hell of a lot.

  She rolls her eyes, shooting me a smirk. “Game on.” I watch her bounce from the room and hope she packed some Motrin and has access to an ice pack. Her vagina is gonna be sore when Mason gets done with her. He won’t stake his claim . . . they’re both free to do whomever they want— although Lee Lee doesn’t use that clause. He’s safe and after the beating her heart took from Brody, that’s what she needs.

  I’m lost in my drawing and shading when there’s a knock at the door. I glance at the clock noticing three hours have passed and my stomach grumbles. I put my sketchpad down and tiptoe to the door. I don’t want to draw attention to the fact someone is in the room in case it’s a random robbery. I watch too much crime television. Peering through the peephole my breath hitches. I shouldn’t be excited it’s him . . . it feels like a booty call. Even if he didn’t take the booty last night. I haven’t heard hide nor hair all day from him . . . and now he appears. My dark knight.

  Pulling the door open my cheeks heat with a single look. “Hey.”

  “Come to my room.” It isn’t a command as much as it is a plea. My stomach breaks the tension, roaring, demanding it to be filled. His dimple peeks as he smirks. “I’ll feed you.”

  Decision made. I’m hungry, that’s the excuse I use. I leave him in the doorway to grab my phone, key, and dart into the bathroom where my fuck me now purchases are stashed. “Give me a minute.” His eyes follow my movements and I swallow my nerves.

  Every rational thought tells me this isn’t a good idea . . . but I can’t bring myself to stop. I hurry and change into the matching sapphire blue lingerie I purchased, fluff my hair, apply lip-gloss and try to settle my nerves. I open the door, my nerves threatening to overtake— no words are spoken as I follow him to the elevator.

  Down the hall.

  To his room.

  “No interruptions.” He didn’t need to tell me he wanted me alone . . . he made that evident. “What do you want to eat?” He picks up the room phone and hits the button.

  “Cheeseburger, no onion or lettuce. Extra pickles on the side— ”

  “A coke and vanilla and strawberry milkshake— mixed not layered.” I grin at his memorization of my favorite dessert.

  “You pay attention.” I quip.

  “Too much. All the fucking time.” His tone is terse, but eyes soft as he places our order. After he hangs up, he kicks off his shoes and flops across the bed, patting the spot next to him.

  I join him, no hesitation, and break the silence. “What is this?”

  Watching his face for any deception, I’m floored when he pins me with his gaze. “Fuck if I know. I don’t even know if it’s a good idea, but I’m willing to take a chance. You?”

  “I don’t know.” Honesty. He deserves that much. “This is kinda sudden.” There . . . the hurdle I needed to jump.

  “Not really. At least for me it isn’t.” I remember back to last year and the dance. I guess he’s referencing that . . . but I still have my reservations.

  “Okay.” I approve. I put it out there. I can’t take it back. Cards on the table— in this case the bed. I scoot closer as he opens his arms and tucks me to his side.

  “Your pace, Avery.” He promises with a kiss to my temple. “Lee Lee and Mason seemed to be pretty intense tonight.” His laughter lights a flutter in my belly.

  “You saw them?” I’m kicking my own ass I didn’t go with them. I could have had extra time with him. “We leave tomorrow night.”

  His eyes close as he exhales. Where will we fit in once we’re back in Kansas? It isn’t as if we follow the yellow brick road to the wizard to ask the questions I need the answers to. “I know.” His voice is soft. The knock halts our conversation. “We will figure this out.” He states as he rises to get our food. I stand to ready the desk for our feast. “Get your ass back in my bed. We’ll be informal tonight. Find a show.” I smile as I take the remote from the nightstand.

  I study his sure movements as he takes the tray and is careful as he lays our food across the bed. I snag a fry and smile. “I’m hungry.”

  “Jesus, Avery. It’s almost eleven. Didn’t you eat dinner?” He’s staring at me like he wants to throttle me.

  “I was sketching.” I lower my eyes, my voice skittish.

  “Of course,” There’s a lightness in his tone. “My Picasso.”

  I scrunch my nose, not liking that nickname. “Uh, no.”

  “Uh, yes.” He snatches a fry from my plate. I slap his hand and I’m met with his grin. The one that makes me want to strip and have my way with him. Or vice versa. Either would work at this point. “You know Pablo means small? That’s you. Tiny in stature, but huge in heart. Small warrior.”

  All argument disappears, it’s replaced by compliance, softness, and my heart turning to molten lava. “Okay, you can call me that.”

  “Oh, I was planning to.” He chuckles and eats a pickle.

  “Hey! Didn’t you get your own food?” I pull my close to my side.

  “Yours looks better.” He stares at his chicken and broccoli with a pout.

  I chortle and maneuver the plate between our legs so we can share. He grabs it and motions for me to sit back. He follows suit and places the plate over his toned, flat stomach— using his body as a table. I settle into eating as he hands me my milkshake and I’m in heaven. Comfortable silence lingers as we enjoy our meal . . . and each other’s company. “What the fuck is this?”

  His eyes are studying the show I have playing. “My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding.” I shrug and watch as the girl tries on her wedding dress . . . blinged with crystals and is as big as my easel.

  “No way. Give me the remote.” He isn’t turning this. I need to see the reception. On occasion, the families get into a brawl and I’m watching that train wreck.

  “Your words were find a show. I did. You can’t renege.” I bat my lashes as he settles back down. And eats my food. Compromise. This relationship . . . or whatever . . . is starting on the right foot. “See how easy that was? Give in and it’ll work just fine for you.”

  “So you’re saying I’m gonna be rewarded?” He waggles his eyebrows.

  “Good things do come to those that wait.” I wink.

  The plate hits the floor, my back hits the mattress. “Oh, I’ve waited for what seems like forever to be here. Patience isn’t my strong suit, and sweet Picasso, I’m cashing in on my reward.” His lips cover mine, our tongues mingle and I fall into the kiss. And the boy giving it to me.

  Deep.

  Fast.

  Hard.

  I fall.

  And fall.

  And fall some more.

  As his lips separate from mine, I’m breathless. And restless. My new panties are wet, an intense throb in my core and I want to climb into him. On top of him. Surround myself amid his body. He rolls to my side , chest heaving, a tight expression pulling across his face causing my heart to plummet. I try to shift away from him but his arms catch me, pulling me to his side. “Just give me a minute.” His voice causes a shudder to roll through me, husky and wanting in melody.

  “I can leave.” My inexperience is showing.

  “No,” he whispers, lacing his fingers with mine. “I don’t want to move too fast with you.” I don’t know why that causes my heart to roll and flip . . . but it does.

  “It isn’t too fast.” I reassure him . . . and myself. I become brazen and shift my body over his, straddling the hard bulge he’s sporting.

  “Fuck.” Half moan and half encouragement emits from his mouth. I place my lips over his, initiating another kiss while I rub my body along his. Grinding, seeking friction, wanting to chase the euphoric feelings coming from my body.

  Hands grip my ass, kne
ading and pulling me tighter, setting a slower pace to the dry humping I’m doing. His lips leave mine, trailing a path down my neck to my collarbone where he nips and sends a jolt straight to my pussy. I push down on his body, a gasp escapes with how good it feels. He repeats the act, setting me on fire. “More.” I plead.

  My body is rolled, as he settles over me, his hands skimming up my sides and taking my shirt with him. The lace bra is doing little to conceal my hard nipples as his mouth catches one through the scant material. The guttural cries from my mouth are foreign but not unwelcome. I tug his hair, pushing him closer to my body as his mouth volleys back and forth, never leaving one breast for too long. Letting go of his hair long enough to bunch his shirt up, he gets the message and releases me long enough to shuck it over his head, tossing it behind him. He finishes taking my top off and frees my bra so it’s mouth on skin and I’m lost in sensations.

  Weighting.

  Freeing.

  Climbing.

  Never cresting.

  I allow my fingers to caress his heated skin, feeling muscles bunch, knowing they posses the strength to consume me. He’s like a canvas itching to be painted— by my fingers. I’m nearing the pinnacle of something but I’m clueless to what I’m chasing. I shift my hips, stop touching his body, and pull my shorts from my hips sliding them down my legs.

  He needs to be closer. My body is craving more and I’m seeking what I need, not knowing what I’m searching for. My core rubs against his bare stomach emitting a hiss from his lips. “What the hell?” He looks down and his eyelids close, opening to a heated, hooded glare. “Shit, Avery.” His face comes back to mine, lips layering, breathing into each other. As his mouth takes over, devouring me, his hand skims my torso, edging to my panty line and teasing with the elastic band forcing a burning heat to spread through my body.

  “Yes,” I beg. He freezes and pulls back. The war of emotions plays over his face but I don’t care. I grab his hand and place it over my core, showing him what I want. A grunted sigh leaves his throat as his forehead drops to mine.