The Truth About Unspeakable Things by Emily Myers (people reading books txt) 📗

I stand on my tippy-toes and bring my lips to the delicate, damp skin of his neck. Julian removes my fedora and moans as my kisses turn to nibbles.

“Come here,” he whispers as he runs his fingers through my hair. Julian lifts me once more so that we see eye to eye. I wrap my arms around his neck to balance myself.

“I won’t let you fall,” Julian says. With that, Julian kisses my neck, and in a similar fashion to myself, nibbles my skin. I moan in pleasure and pull my shirt over my head. Thankfully, I took Kat’s advice and wore my sexy bra made of navy fabric and bits of see-through lace. Julian laughs and then pulls away.

“What’s wrong?” I ask through labored breaths. My exposed skin tingles under his gaze.

“Nothing, it’s just . . .” Julian starts then stops. I can tell he’s trying hard not to devour me. His restraint is endearing. “I don’t want you to think—”

“I don’t,” I tell him, bringing my palm to his cheek. He’s fiery hot. “But I . . . I also don’t want you to stop.”

Julian searches my face for any signs of hesitation. He finds none. I toy with the collar of his shirt, exposing the edge of his tattoo.

“I know it’s soon, but . . . I want this,” I tell him as I trace the contours of his collarbone.

“So, do I,” he finally says.

Julian holds me against the doorframe as he opens the door to his bedroom. Inside, I’m curious to know what his room looks like, but I can’t pull my eyes or lips from his as he carries me to the bed.

Julian supports my head as he lays me down. Feathers float in the air as we press our bodies into the down comforter. We both laugh. Julian kisses me and I kiss him as I yank his shirt over his tousled head.

“You’re amazing, Emma Marshall,” he whispers as he gets on top of me. “Beautiful, intelligent, just incredible.” With each compliment, he kisses a different part of my body—my collarbone, my shoulder, my breast. I gasp and close my eyes as—

“Look at me,” he says.

“What?” My body is suddenly rigid beneath his.

“I said, look at me,” Julian repeats.

“No,” I say. Behind closed eyes, I see Beaux on top of me. Images of the attack flood my mind. My insides burn as they did the night Beaux ripped into them. My skin, wet with Julian’s kisses, feels ice cold as if touched by death. “No!” I scream. Moving my hands to the covers, I squeeze and wriggle underneath invisible pressure.

“Don’t touch me,” I yell. Beaux smiles sadistically as he thrusts into me. “No!” I scream once more.

“Now, we’re done,” Beaux says. His ghost fades from view.

“We’ll never be done,” I whisper.

“Emma! Emma?” I open my eyes to a frantic Julian shaking me. “Emma, thank God!” Julian gasps as I come to.

Regaining my composure, I move to a sitting position, slinging my legs over the edge of his bed. The surrounding room is dark, as in painted black. Boxes of books and records fill otherwise empty corners. A beanbag sits in the middle of the room with a guitar resting close by.

I feel Julian’s eyes on me as I sit quietly. Worry contorts his features, but he doesn’t reach out to me. He’s afraid of me, afraid he’ll break me. Little does he know, I’ve already been broken.

I shake my head and wipe a few budding tears from my eyes. This is why I’m meeting with a lawyer. This is why I’m going to take Beaux down.

Kat was right. I allowed him to have control over me when I didn’t speak up. Well, not anymore.

“That guy from Mimi’s, he’s the one who broke your heart,” Julian says.

I bite my lip, and finally, I nod.

Julian throws his legs over the edge of the bed and stares at the wooden floor, as do I. Static fills the air as yet another record has played out.

“He did more than that, didn’t he?”

I turn to him. My neck aches at the sharp movement. Despite my desire to out Beaux and take back my control, I can’t bring myself to admit what he did to Julian. I . . . I can’t let this disease infect any other areas of my life. Even though I’m afraid it already has.

I turn away from Julian and sit in silence until I work up the strength to apologize and say my goodbyes for the night.

Chapter 17

“You were quiet coming home last night,” Kat tells me.

Concern and curiosity shroud her sun-kissed features as she pulls my curls into a low up-do. Tonight is the Creative Concepts Gala, and because of my well-received article on Lucid Records, I’ve been promoted to cover the private auction held in Jackson Square. It’s a formal event, think floor-length gowns, fake eyelashes, expensive hairdos, and masques. Apparently, the paintings can go for a million dollars or more. The masques provide privacy to the large donors, but I think it’s just another excuse to wear one. They are beautiful, after all. Mine is ivory with flakes of gold underneath the eyes. Embroidered gold fabric finishes out the rest with designs of roses adorned with crystals. Kat had it from one of the Mardi Gras balls she attended, along with the dress I’ll be wearing.

“Emma?” Kat jolts me back to our rather uncomfortable conversation by tugging on my hair.

“Ow!” I yelp. In truth, she didn’t hurt me, not like the memories of last night. I exhale. “I’m sorry. I just—I don’t really want to talk about last night,” I say.

“That bad?” she asks.

“No,” I admit. “In fact, it was quite beautiful and perfect.”

Before me, my reflection is barely recognizable. My dark green eyes are illuminated with gold and brown shadows and false lashes. My cheeks are warm and glowing with bronzer, peachy-pink blush, and highlighter. My lips appear larger than they are due to Kat’s skills with a lip liner. My mother would be proud. The real me is almost completely concealed, almost.

Beneath