Love Block (The Love Lock Duet Book 1) Read online

  I lunge at him, wrapping my arms and legs around his body. My sudden movements cause us to dip our chins below the surface of the water. But he’s a strong swimmer and recovers quickly.

  “Something just touched my back.”

  I shudder and frantically scan the murky black water as if I have any chance of seeing anything. Dropping his chin to my shoulder, Drew tries to hide the laughter rumbling from his chest.

  “I’m not kidding. Something touched me.”

  “It might have been a black water snake.”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  I dig my nails into his back, refusing to even think about a snake in the same water as me. He hisses but doesn’t push me away. Instead, he brings me closer.

  One snake is bad enough, but there could be more than one. Shit.

  “Water snakes? Ohmigod, please tell me you’re kidding?”

  “They’re harmless, but it would be freaky in the dark.”

  I’m not sure if it’s his tone, low and gravelly, or his fingers squeezing my waist, but suddenly I’m hyperaware of how impossibly close we are.

  I’m bare and pressed against him. My breasts rub his hard chest, and my nipples are stiff peaks, sensitive to the slightest movement. Every shift I make while treading water ratchets the aching need growing in my core.

  Speaking of my vagina, it just happens to be molded to his washboard stomach, and I swear the tip of his erect cock is nudging the base of my sex. But we’re not skin to skin. He’s wearing boxers and the fabric rubs the backs of my legs. A little cotton won’t get in my way.

  If I just shimmied a smidge south, I wonder if I could slide down his shaft. I want his cock inside of me. I’m wet and ready. God, the thought alone could bring me to orgasm.

  Drew’s eyes flicker to the water, where we’re joined, before coming back to me; first our eyes meet, then his travel to my mouth. A moan slides from my lips and his pecs quiver at the scraping of my hard nipples against his flesh. He feels it too.

  “Kiss me,” I whisper only a breath from his lips, so close I could just take what I want.

  He draws his head back and clenches his jaw so tight I hear the grind. “No.”

  “Why? I want you, and unless I’m mistaken”—I deliberately slide an inch down his stomach, and the crown of his cock presses into my sex—“the feeling is mutual.” I whimper, clenching my thighs, and he releases a harsh breath.

  “Pippa.” He growls my name like a curse, gliding an arm under my butt to push me up his torso, away from what I want.

  But he doesn’t release me or swim away. He may be saying no but his body wants this as much as I do. Why else would he keep me close?

  “Drew, my feelings for you are no secret.”

  “This. Us. We aren’t happening. Ever.” His words are an unforgiving blow to my heart.

  “Why?” I choke, frustrated with this all too familiar song.

  “You’re family, and Paige’s best friend.”

  My stomach churns at his platonic reference. I want to be his family, but not in a ‘we’re stuck together’ kind of way. I want him to choose me.

  “I’m sick and tired of you using that to push me away.” My hands slap at the kettle-black water.

  “Well, it is what it is.”

  I scoff, also fed up with that stupid phrase. It’s such a cop-out.

  “You want to know what I think?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “I think you want me as much as I want you. You’re distancing yourself for fear of losing control. So, instead of giving in to what we both want, you’re running. Running or avoiding is how you handle me.”

  His laugh is hollow. For someone who takes on bad guys in a court of law every day, calling him out like this is tantamount to war.

  “That’s your theory? You’re delusional.” He drops his arm from under my butt and starts to back away, but I keep my grip firmly on him.

  “Then prove it.”

  His attempted but failed escape hangs between us, as does his hesitancy. If he ignores me or declines, he’s only proving me right.

  His eyes drop to my mouth, and I lick my lips. He opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something, but then thinks better of it, snapping his mouth shut and closing his eyes.

  A beat or two, three at the most, passes, but the ominous sense of time without end is smothering. My insides are on fire with want—no, need—for his mouth on mine. Yet I wait impatiently.

  I’m no fool. As much as I want this and have dreamed about this moment too many times to count, if I dare make the first move, he’ll vanish faster than lightning.

  Finally, his pale eyes open, immediately latching onto mine, and everything slows. One of his large hands slide behind my neck to cup the back of my head, and the other moves fluidly through the water, keeping us afloat.

  “Fuck,” he mutters repentantly. He hasn’t done anything yet.

  “Don’t,” is my plea.

  Don’t stop. Don’t change your mind. Don’t regret this.

  His lips hover over mine. Our hot, choppy breaths mingle and ever so slowly, he leans in, slanting his head, he captures my mouth in a kiss that’s possessive and probing, definitely languid like he has all the time in the world. Whimpering deep in my throat, I match every one of his thrusts and strokes.

  Damn, this is how a first kiss should feel. This isn’t tentative or exploratory, he’s kissing me like I’m his and he never intends to let me go. We suck and nip. Our tongues greedily drink from the other, devouring all the bottled-up emotions we’ve been denied over the years. I consume every groan and grunt, hungry for all of him, stealing every morsel.

  “Goddammit.” He rips his mouth away and rests his forehead against mine, eyes closed, breathing ragged.

  A distressful moan wrenches from my chest and I want to weep at the loss or take charge, cover his mouth with mine. But I do neither.

  Time stands still. An eternity with our heads together. He grips the side of my face, his fingertips pulsing against my scalp. Wordlessly, he releases me. Bereft and stranded, I want to crumple and sink to the bottom of the lake.

  He’s swimming to the shore as if competing in the Olympics and a mass of hurt swells in my throat.

  That was hands down the best kiss of my life. I’d always known Drew and I would be magic together. Our first kiss was everything.

  I’m both lost and found.

  Somehow, in a small but no less painful way, he’s tainted the glory of our kiss by ditching me.

  Leaving me alone.

  Drew Hayes is a coward.

  7

  Drew

  I left her in the lake. I never looked back. I couldn’t. If I had, I’d be balls deep inside her and never want to let her go.

  This is why I stayed away. There were times in the past when she was drunk, throwing herself at me, and I’d always let her down easy because I knew a taste would never be enough.

  Now I’m screwed. I’ve had what’s forbidden, and I’m willing to live in sin, accepting any punishment if it means I get to have her. I’m so screwed.

  I resent Finn and his ultimatums. At first, I agreed to him ordering all his friends to stay away from his sisters. I understood what was driving him, what ate at him day and night, and even with my growing attraction to his sister, I didn’t want to destroy our friendship.

  Truthfully, we were young and foolish. The reality of Pippa and I fizzling fast was real. I cared for her, no doubt, but I was also all hormones and not ready to settle down.

  But that was then. Finn has had time to deal with the past, and Pippa and I have grown. I’ve grown up, and I still want her. This doesn’t feel like I’m out to get my rocks off. This feels unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

  After my shower and brooding in my room, I return outside to find most of the people Ken brought here out of the water. Pippa’s sitting near the fire talking to a guy. He has angled his chair to face her and his knee touches hers. His body language says it all
. He’s riveted, eyes only for her and looking to get more.

  Over my dead body.

  What the hell am I thinking? She can do whatever she wants. Be with whomever she wants. I walked away from her.

  I’m not possessive. Never before have I cared if a guy admires the woman I’m with or even talks to her. But Pippa brings out something foreign and overwhelming in me that I don’t like. This ravenous need to lay claim. It’s fucked up, and yet, I can’t help myself.

  That’s why I cut off all contact with her this past year. She messes with my mind and I do things that are so unlike me.

  I finally took the leap and decided to stay away from her the night she walked into Sam’s restaurant with a guy. Her boyfriend at the time. I wanted to beat the shit out of him.

  I’d seen her with boyfriends before, that wasn’t new, but I’d never had to sit through a meal with another guy’s hands all over her. And also, more and more, I realized I wanted that guy to be me.

  I could barely watch them, let alone talk to them. And speaking of screwed up thoughts, I wanted to take him on. Again, I’m not a violent person. I’d rather settle things with words than with fists.

  But that night, all my senses left me. It didn’t matter that her boyfriend was an athlete—he could have put me in the hospital despite being in good shape myself—I seriously thought about taking him on.

  Her melodic laughter lures me back from those disturbing memories. Lively and teasing with the guy, she’s enjoying herself.

  She’s the brightest star in the sky in both sparkle and substance.

  Effervescent.

  Her smile fades the second she spots me and with a glance at the guy, they stand, walking past me toward the house.

  What the hell? Is she hooking up with that asshole? Before I attempt to stop her, I catch myself. I can’t push her away and also tell her she can’t be with anyone. This is how it has to be, and this is better for Finn too. This is how I want it. Right?

  Then why can’t I forget our kiss?

  It was so much more than a kiss. We bared our wants and desires. Both of us giving in. If she had no idea how I felt about her before, I’m pretty sure our kiss cleared that up.

  And her bare body against mine. Sweet mother of Christ, I don’t know how I kept it together. Her hot core rubbing against my stomach. We were so close to going all the way. Another inch or two. My cock twitches at the memory, and I grind my teeth to lock down my fantasies.

  Now more than irritated, I lash out at Ken’s friends, demanding they leave, and luckily, they give no trouble. The group clears out within minutes, including Ken. But not before he gives me a piece of his mind.

  “Hey, what the hell man? I’ve been watching you with Pippa. Does Finn know?”

  “Know what?”

  I deliberately block out the phenomenal kiss with Pippa. Guilt is a fucking bitch.

  “Seriously? This is how you’re gonna play it?” He pulls his shirt over his head. “The lake the other day, then the bar and now this. I saw you two in the water. Nothing may have happened, but you both want it.”

  He pauses, staring me down. When I remain silent, he leans in closer. “Finn's gonna lose his shit.”

  Ken's the joker among us, the last one to take responsibility for anything. If he's concerned and warning me about what’s at stake—like I don’t know—I’m in deep shit.

  Continuing to wait me out, he’s daring me to deny it. My lips thin into a firm line and I cradle the silence as if it’s my only defense. I’m not in the mood to get into this, especially with Ken. After a few seconds of staring, he shakes his head and walks away.

  The next hour is spent collecting beer bottles, cleaning up, and making sure the fire is out. With nothing left for me to do, I reluctantly plod to my room, passing Pippa’s room on my way to bed.

  And as if I haven’t tortured myself enough tonight, still eager to torment myself, I stop and listen at her closed door. Not a sound can be heard. Thank fuck. I couldn’t handle hearing anything sounding remotely close to them having sex.

  As predicted, the night is endless and cruel. I sleep like shit and am already awake when dawn comes. Bone tired and grumpy, I trudge down to the kitchen for coffee.

  Not long after, Pippa breezes in, honeysuckle filling the air, and I relish her scent even if I shouldn’t.

  “Morning,” she says in a sing-song voice. “What’s on the docket today?”

  She’s trying too hard. Hard enough for her syrupy mood to make my teeth ache, and her plastic smile makes me wince.

  I’m not much better though. Instead of swallowing her cheery cover-up and leaving last night in the past where it belongs, I dig in for an argument.

  “Did your friend leave?”

  Her eyes slice bluntly into my equally sugary tone. “Friend?” She tilts her head, and her silky hair tumbles over one shoulder the same way my insides spill to my toes.

  “The guy you slept with last night.” My directness yanks a gasp from her.

  “What?” Her mouth gapes. “You think… you… I…”

  “Pippa, I saw you leave with him. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out.”

  “Well, you should go back to school because your science is way off. I didn’t sleep with Lance.”

  “Lance?” That’s the lucky bastard’s name.

  She nods, crossing her arms and tapping her foot on the tiled floor.

  “Okay, if you say so.” My sardonic tone continues to bite her. “What did you do?”

  “We fooled around.” She winks, twirls, and leaves.

  “Pippa.”

  At my terse tone, she whips around, eyes narrowed, jaw tight, and lips thin.

  “Not that I owe you an explanation, but seeing as you think so little of me… we didn’t do anything. I’m not Lance’s type. I don’t have the anatomy that he craves. If you must know, we talked about the theatre, ballet, and costumes, and I mentioned my mom.”

  Her mother is a costume designer, and from the sounds of it, Lance prefers guys, and most importantly, I’m an ass.

  “Oh, you know what? Who cares.” With an exasperated huff, she makes a beeline for the stairs, but I grab her hand to stop her. I don’t want to leave things like this.

  “I’m sorry. I’m a fool.” She sits beside me on the couch without argument. “Can we just forget last night?”

  She peers at me through her long blonde lashes. “All of it?”

  Our kiss. The lake. Unforgettable. I nod reluctantly and sigh. It’s not what she wants to hear, but it’s best if we move on.

  “Fine.” She bites her bottom lip and wrinkles her brow. “Tell me what to work on. Let me grab breakfast, then I’ll get started.”

  “Could you paint in here? And I’ll do upstairs.”

  “Paint?” She twists to face me. “Does your mom know you’re painting?”

  Her worry eases a smile from me. My mother would kill me if I painted or did any kind of decorating without her permission. I chuckle.

  “Nah, let me rephrase. We’re priming the walls. That’s all Mom would allow. She says this way the walls are ready for whatever she has in mind.”

  “Ah, now that sounds more like it.” Springing to her feet, she saunters into the kitchen, only to pop her head around the corner. “Oh, and Drew, I’ll pretend like nothing happened, but it doesn’t mean it won’t happen again.”

  “Pippa.” Wasn’t I clear enough? “Last night didn’t happen, and nothing is happening in the future.”

  I force myself to look at her, keeping my voice steady despite the growing ache between my breastbone with each word I say. All lightheartedness vanishes from her face, and she retreats into the kitchen.

  Surprisingly, the day goes by fast, although we don’t talk much. We’re exhausted by late afternoon, and I’m ready to call it a day when she breaks through my thoughts.

  “Drew,” she says from the other side of the room.

  “Yeah?” Placing the hammer in the toolbox, I glance a
t her.

  She furrows her brow and nibbles on her bottom lip, all signs I won’t like what she has to say. This could go in a million directions.

  “Why’d you stay away?” She cocks her head to the side, rays of sunshine dancing through her blonde hair.

  “What do you mean?”

  I have an inkling of what she’s getting at but hope I’m wrong.

  “This past year.” She deposits the paint roller in the tray, stepping from the ladder to fully face me. “You deliberately stayed away from me. Why?”

  “Pip, I’m not sure what you mean. You live with Paige and hang out with my family all the time, I’m sure we saw each other.”

  My voice is deliberately steady, but I don’t quite pull off the lie; the last of my words sound strangled.

  “Drew, don’t lie to me. I’m—”

  Before she can finish the sentence, there’s a knock at the door, and I’m thankful to whoever has saved me from this awkward and embarrassing conversation.

  8

  Pippa

  Drew marches to the door like a man granted a stay of execution. He’s not getting off that easily. Hopefully, this won’t take long and we can get back to our conversation. The large door swings open, and my worst nightmare stands in the entry.

  Scarlett.

  Drew’s ex.

  What the hell is she doing here? Did he invite her? Are they back together? Oh my God.

  “Scarlett?” With his back to me, I hear surprise in his voice.

  “Hey.” She kisses his cheek, peering over his shoulder at me. “Hi, Pippa.”

  “Hi,” I manage to push past my heart tripping up my throat.

  “It’s nice to see you.” He shuts the door behind her. “But what are you doing here?”

  “Don’t hold back your excitement at seeing me,” she teases.

  “Shit, I didn’t—” Drew stammers.

  “Relax.” She touches his arm, offering one of her confident and controlled smiles. “I was staying over at the Malones’ for the weekend. Remember Lindy?”

  A manicured hand smooths her long, dark hair and Scarlett takes in the room. He nods, waiting for her to go on.