Lie With Me (Decadence After Dark #4) Read online

  Lie With Me

  Copyright 2015 by M. Never

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher. No part of this book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from author M. Never copyright 2015. All rights reserved.

  Cover Design By:

  Marisa Shor, Cover Me, Darling

  Photography By:

  Sara Eirew

  Editing By:

  Jenny Carlsrud Sims, Editing 4 Indies

  Copy Editing By:

  Candice Royer

  Proofreading By:

  Nichole Strauss, Perfectly Publishable

  Interior Design and Formatting By:

  Christine Borgford, Perfectly Publishable

  LIE WITH ME

  Prologue

  CJ

  Tara

  CJ

  Tara

  CJ

  Tara

  CJ

  Tara

  CJ

  Tara

  CJ

  Tara

  CJ

  Tara

  CJ

  Tara

  CJ

  Tara

  CJ

  Tara

  CJ

  Tara

  CJ

  Tara

  CJ

  Tara

  CJ

  Tara

  CJ

  Epilogue

  Books by M. Never

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  “Hurt me with the truth, but never comfort me with a lie.”

  ~ Unknown

  HAVE YOU EVER MADE A decision you believed to be the right one, only to regret it in the end? Have you ever walked a path that seemed adventurous at first, only to find out it was perilous instead? I’m not a stupid girl. I knew what I was getting into. I took a risk thinking there would always be a way out because that is what I was led to believe. But I understand now you can’t always see the forest for the trees. You can be blindly enchanted by the most charming individual, and then trapped before you even know it.

  “Tara?” Nino grabs my face and pins me against the brick wall. “Where the fuck were you?”

  “Nowhere. Around.” I struggle against him.

  “Bullshit. You weren’t answering your phone, and you weren’t at your apartment. Where the fuck have you been?” He squeezes my cheeks harder.

  “I don’t need to run my life by you! You don’t own me!” My words are muffled, but there’s no mistaking the fire behind them.

  Nino flashes a sadistic smile. Even in the dim light of the alleyway, I can still make out his features. Strong jaw, high cheekbones, styled hair, and mouth of the devil himself. I used to think that mouth was sexy. I used to wish it would touch mine, devour it. Now, I regret ever getting close to it. It’s caused nothing but chaos.

  “You are so wrong.” His voice vibrates with menace. “You’re my girl, Tara. I own that face and that ass and that pussy. Never forget that. I. Own. You.” He releases my face roughly but keeps me pinned to the wall. “And if you ever disappear on me like that again, I’ll find you.” His threat chills me straight to the bone. “Got it, Tara?”

  I loathe the way he says my name—like he really does own me. I hold back the angry tears, completely silent.

  “Tara?” He demands an answer.

  “Yes,” I bite out, fighting the urge to spit on him.

  FOUR DAYS.

  That’s all we had. Four precious days that rattled my world. We told each other it wasn’t anything more than Type I fun and great sex. Great. Fucking. Sex. The best of my life.

  I keep trying to tell myself that’s all it was—easy fun and casual sex. Convince myself. Because she is five thousand miles away in New York, and I am here, confined in a room surrounded by semi-automatic weapons in Hawaii.

  All I see are her eyes.

  They’re the only thing I’ve been able to think about for the last six months.

  Well, that’s not entirely true … I think about her lips and her tongue and her body and her smile. But her dark blue eyes are the most prevalent. Just the way they used to suck me in, read me, devour me, seduce me. Shine when they looked at me, even if it was all too briefly.

  Four days.

  Four simple, carefree days is what I had with Tara Stevens. I knew I was a dead man walking during that last dance at Kayne and Ellie’s wedding as our bodies swayed and touched and caressed to David Cook’s Fade into Me. That’s exactly what it felt like, too—like we were fading into each other, the world disappearing right before our very eyes. The spark of attraction becoming so hot it felt as if it was fueled by kerosene. I had to have her despite the fact Kayne threatened my life not twenty-four hours before. He’s as protective of Tara as he is of Ellie, but nothing could stop the lust converging between us like two electrically charged particles—not even a six-foot-three, two-hundred-pound killing machine.

  I fiddle with the little plastic plumeria flower Tara wore in her hair. You can find them all over the island in an array of colors. I squeeze the clip between my fingers and watch as the light pink flower teeters up and down. I can still picture it pinned in her platinum blonde hair. Hair so long and thick, I would wrap it around my wrist and pull while I fucked her. One notable time on the hood of my car parked on a secluded cliff overlooking a waterfall and a green, mountainous landscape.

  My cock stiffens painfully from just the memory.

  I have to stop fucking doing this to myself. It’s torture. What we had is over. It was never anything to begin with. Type I fun—fun in the purest sense—and great sex.

  I clip the flower back on the top edge of my monitor and try to ignore the memory of Tara naked, spread across the black hood of my Charger, while I took her hard from behind. How she loved it, how she encouraged it; a façade of innocence with the flower in her hair.

  I learned quickly that Tara was anything but innocent. She’s the most sexually adventurous woman I have ever met. A live wire, up for anything. I’ve tried that submissive stuff Kayne and Jett are into, but it just wasn’t for me. I prefer a more active participant, and Tara definitely fit that bill. Giving me head on the H3 while we drove to the North Shore, sex in the ocean with a beach full of people, letting me fuck her any and every possible way in my hotel room the night of the wedding. And don’t get me started on her little clit ring; I can still feel it clinking against my teeth as I made her come. Still taste her sweetness as she exploded on my tongue.

  I grab my cock with desperate need. Desperate need for Tara.

  I know I have to stop thinking about her, fantasizing about her, but she seems to be woven into my every thought. It’s been six months; I should have moved on by now, but I feel like I’m stuck. Stuck on a vivacious blonde I can’t get out of my head.

  “Hey, man.” I hear Jett suddenly behind me.

  “Hey.” I clear my throat and straighten hastily in my seat.

  He leans against my desk and gazes down at me. Those perceptive turquoise eyes scrutinizing me.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.” I nonchalantly adjust my junk and glance at the computer screen. “Where are the girls?”

  “Napping, finally.” Jett drops his head back. “London was up with Layla all night again.”

  “Sucks, man.” I attempt to make casual conversation. “I remember my mom complaining I didn’t sleep through the
night until I started crawling.”

  “Yeah. Well, we are almost there, so here’s hoping.” Jett chuckles. “Anything going on I should know about?” He nods at the monitor.

  “Nope. All quiet on the western front.”

  “Nice. That’s what I like to hear.”

  “Don’t we all.” I fiddle with Tara’s flower distractedly.

  Jett sighs. “Why don’t you just go see her?”

  “Who?” I whip my head over at him.

  He shoots me a don’t bullshit me, brother look.

  “The owner of that flower,” he says directly.

  I scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I’m being serious.” He’s stern.

  Not that I haven’t considered it, but what would it accomplish? Another weekend, at most, of complete and utter bliss that has a foreseeable end? A tease of happiness? No thanks. I’d rather just get past it on my own.

  “I don’t think so.” I brush him off.

  “You’ve been moping around here since Tara left.”

  “I don’t know if moping is the right word,” I grumble.

  “Yearning then? When I walked in here, you were just about to jerk off to that flower.”

  “I was not.” I glare up at him. “I was adjusting.”

  “Sure, we can call it that if it makes you feel better.” He calls bullshit.

  “Kayne would hang me off Diamond Head by my ankles if he found out I went to see her.”

  “Don’t tell him.” Jett shrugs. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Besides, he’s so wrapped up with Ellie, he won’t even notice you’re gone.”

  “That makes me feel so loved.” I bat my eyes at him sardonically.

  “If I tell you that I love you, will your balls grow back?” He puts his hand on my shoulder, messing with me.

  I smack him away and laugh. “My balls haven’t gone anywhere. Trust me. I think they’ve turned into rocks.”

  “Someone needs some pussy. Perfect reason to go see Tara. Fuck her out of your system.”

  I curl my lip. “You actually kiss London with that crass mouth?”

  “I do way more than kiss her.” Jett leers at me like he just sprouted horns. “Don’t you want to do more with your mouth than just blow hot air?” he goads me.

  I cross my arms and exhale, half envious-half conflicted; my chest muscles stiffen as I reluctantly succumb to my raging hormones. As much as I hate to admit it, Jett is right. I do need pussy, and Tara’s is definitely worth flying clear across the country for.

  “You’ll cover for me with Kayne?” I raise an eyebrow, actually considering it like a crazy man.

  “I promise he won’t have a clue,” Jett responds deviously, his eyes glittering like a pair of precious stones. I swear he gets off on fucking with Kayne.

  “Well, then …” I smile presumptuously. The fact this trip will be covert as well as illicit adds even more of an appeal. “I guess someone is going to New York.”

  THE COFFEE SHOP IS EXTRA busy this morning.

  It’s Friday and it seems everyone is vying for their caffeine fix all at once. I haven’t stopped serving Black Sabbath’s or Beads of Pearls all morning. Those are two of the signature blends served at one of the oldest cafes in the city. It’s what Jo Jo’s is famous for. An espresso-like dark roast and a blonde roast that rivals Starbucks.

  “Miss!” One of my customers shouts at me from across the room. “I need some more cream, please.”

  I nod, acknowledging her as I set down two cups of coffee and a chocolate chip scone to a couple heavily engaged in their cell phones. I have been working at Jo Jo’s since I started at NYU five and a half years ago. I have one semester left before I complete my M.A. in music.

  I drop my tray heavily on the service station counter getting Philly’s attention. He’s the manager and my best friend since as long as I can remember. His family owns the place so it was easy to score a job.

  “Cream, please.”

  Philly cracks a perverted smile.

  “Not that kind.” I roll my eyes. And I don’t think the lady at table six would appreciate any practical jokes. He glances over at the woman sitting by the window. She’s dressed casually but impeccably and has yet to reveal any capability of emotion. If I had to guess, her facial muscles have been Botoxed into submission.

  I see the type all the time. Jo Jo’s is right on the border of midtown and uptown, so we get a variety of customers.

  “One extra cream,” Philly places a small bowl with creamers on my tray. “And one Assassin.”

  “‘Bout time. I was starting to wonder if you were sleeping back there.”

  “Ha-ha. You try keeping up with the morning rush minus one barista, who is totally fired by the way.”

  “Yeah.” I curl my lip pretending to feel sorry for him. “That’s why I work on this side of the counter. Less stress, better tips.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” He swipes his towel at me. “I can always promote you and force you to work back here with me.”

  “You could,” I sing, lifting the tray. “But you won’t. Remember what happened in high school when we tried to work the kissing booth together?”

  “Yes.” He grimaces. “All the guys wanted to kiss you and not me.”

  “My lips are poutier.” I make a fish face before I head back into the insanity.

  You know that saying all the good ones are gay? It’s totally true. Phillipo De Blasio is tall, hot, and one hundred percent homo. Not even a little bi because if he were, I would have been all over him years ago. But alas, lady bits just don’t do it for him. It’s a total bummer … for the entire female race.

  By the time the morning rush is over, I’m spinning in circles. The line at the register has died down and most of the tables are clear now. I almost consider plopping down on one of the sofas, but Philly frowns upon the workers looking lazy, which means break time is taken in the back. He’s so militant, and I tell him so.

  “Excuse me?” I hear someone clear their throat from behind me as I sluggishly wipe down a table. “Is this seat taken?”

  “No,” I turn around so the customer can sit and look straight into a pair of impish brown eyes. I freeze, stunned.

  CJ smiles at me, and I forget how to use all basic motor function. I think it’s more from shock than anything else. We haven’t spoken in six months. Not since Kayne and Ellie’s wedding—not since the amazing four days we spent together after the wedding. A reel of explicit images and a rash of sensations hit me all at once.

  CJ’s smile dims, and his eyebrows crease. “Not happy to see me?”

  Not happy? “Oh, no! Of course, I am. You just surprised me.” A smile bubbling with elation spreads across my face. CJ seems to relax instantly. “What are you doing here?”

  “I needed a cup of coffee.” He puts his hands on my hips, and yup, that’s all it takes. I liquefy. I have missed those hands touching me. I’ve tried not to think about him, but now that he’s here, I have to stop myself from dragging him into the back and showing him where else I would like him to put them.

  “You came all the way to New York for a cup of coffee?” I try to keep my composure and flirt all at the same time.

  “And business.”

  “Oh.” I brush some hair out of my eyes. I know I look like a hot mess right now. I’ve been running around ragged for close to three hours, and I’m pretty sure my appearance proves that. Meanwhile, CJ looks delicious in dark jeans and a gray hoodie.

  “I was hoping we could catch up and maybe have dinner … tonight? While I’m in town.” He grips my hips a little tighter.

  “Tonight?” I frown.

  “You’re busy?” His expression deflates.

  “I am.”

  “Washing your hair?” he jokes.

  “No.” I nudge him. “It’s my father’s birthday. I already have dinner plans.”

  “Bummer.” He releases me, and I actually sag in disappointment.

  “How long are you in town for?�
��

  CJ seems to ponder this before answering. “Till Sunday night. Think you can squeeze me in?”

  “I think so.” I step closer to him and run my hands down his chest. “If you don’t mind a late drink, I can squeeze you in tonight.”

  CJ’s eyes twinkle, and it’s not just from the sun shining through the front window. “I think.” He drops his mouth to my ear. “I don’t mind waiting if it means I get to spend time with you, shortcake.”

  I gaze at him with a seductive smirk. The term of endearment makes me tingle. “It’s done then.”

  “Sounds good.” He kisses my cheek before he lifts his head. “I’m staying at the Towers at New York Palace. There’s a lounge in the lobby.”

  “The Towers? Fancy.”

  CJ winks at me. “I like the view.”

  I idly wonder if I’ll get to see it. I seriously hope so.

  “I’ll text you my number.” He pulls his hood up. “And see you tonight.” He flashes me a sexy smile. With that, he leaves. I watch mutely as he walks out the door and disappears into the pedestrian traffic crowding the sidewalk. My whole body is on fire—my skin, my cheeks, my thighs.

  I had moved on from CJ, or at least told myself that I had. We both agreed the time we spent together was purely physical. A carefree few days where we indulged in each other and then walked away. Which is exactly what happened. When the time came for me to return to New York, we said good-bye and I got on the plane. But seeing him this morning, the memory of being together feels as if it never settled in the past. Like we were together just yesterday and the attraction is still as fiery as ever.

  “Tara?” Philly calls my name. “Hello.” He waves his hand in front of my face. “Earth to blondie.”

  “Huh?” I look up at him dazed.

  “Who the hell was that? And did he stun you or something?”

  “Stun me? In a way,” I huff. “And that was CJ.”

  Philly’s jaw drops. “The hottie from Hawaii?”

  “The one and the same.”

  “What’s he doing here?”