The Lie by Natalie Wrye (most inspirational books of all time .txt) 📗

feel a strange sense of panic—like I’m losing something. I can’t tell what it is, and I can’t quite think clearly enough to figure it out. I just know I need it back. I need something.

My mind focuses, and I know what it needs.

I need Andrew.

I need him to be deep inside me when he comes.

“Andrew,” I breathe, and before I can finish, he’s already moving, pulling out and thrusting back into me. My eyes roll back in my head, and I almost black out.

His hands are on my hips, and he takes my neck in his mouth.

It is fated between us—every movement, every touch, every stroke.

That fire and ice.

The two halves of us create a whole that is so intense, it feels like destiny.

Andrew is the flame. And I am the frost.

And as his counterpart, I melt under him—with him, all around him.

I can feel the heat of his breath. The girth of his perfect cock. His lips at my ear.

He's growling now, his teeth at my neck.

And I know that I am his.

I am completely his.

He gives me one, long, deep stroke—strong enough to hit my soul, and I come, tumbling over the edge.

I cry out, falling into his fiery abyss, and he's right there to catch me every step of the way, his hands holding on tight as I ride the wave of our twisted fate…

All the way down.

Andrew follows me, his climax reaching his peak, and I feel his warmth.

I feel his cock pulsing inside of me. Feel his body quiver, grow rigid and tense.

A shudder runs through him, and a tremor runs through me, and we both collapse onto the bed.

I wait, watching him—unable to move.

I fear my heart is going to explode and when he smooths the sweaty hair out of my face, it does, shatters into shards at the sweet look on Andrew’s gorgeous face.

He grins. “So, kitty… Did I make good on my promise? Or what? The jury is spent and needs to know. Preferably before the next go-around. But maybe even before then.” The grin grows. “The jury’s impatient…and you look too fucking sexy right now to wait too long.”

I start to answer him. But then a sound echoes outside the bedroom door…

Sounding like a voice.

“Umm, now that I think the two of you are done… I just want to know,” Sabrina’s melodic voice rings out. “Should I come back later to ask whether or not Andrew’s going to get his tux? Hannah wants to know. Or should I just mark the day as a total wash? Let me know. In the meantime, I’ll be throwing up outside from the trauma, so just holla if you need me… And bring a bucket. It’s the least the two of you could do for scarring me for life. Oh, and P.S.? You’re really loud.”

I giggle out loud—a first for me.

And when Andrew gets up out of bed, rolling his eyes, I let him go, knowing that the empty space he leaves behind will be filled as soon he comes back—a realization that fills me with hope.

And fear. And faith. And dread…

All at once.

Chapter 18

ANDREW

I’ve never been the tux type of man.

But if fitting into one means I’ll get to be next to Nancy another day, then a tux man is exactly what the hell I’ll be.

Sabrina whisks me away to Duffy’s bridal shop before I barely manage to kiss my fake fiancée.

Hannah’s wedding, which seemed like forever away, is finally happening this evening, and somehow, in the span of two days, it’s like I’ve forgotten all about it, pushing it to the back of my muddled mind.

A chilled February rain starts to fall, and at Sabrina’s side, I drive her car—one of her cars—all the way into town.

Walking in the bridal shop like the World’s Worst Brother, I’m only too surprised to find someone is actually happy to see me.

A thin blonde with severe eyebrows and blue eyes steps forward.

It takes me a few minutes to realize I recognize her. Recognize her as one of the many girls in high school I’d had around for a good time.

I clear my throat as she approaches.

“Jennifer,” Sabrina babbles beside me. “You remember my brother, Lincoln,” she mocks playfully, “don’t you? The one that lives in Manhattan?”

The blonde’s eyes flash. And I know she recognizes me too.

Especially when she sticks her hand out, her slender fingers squeezing mine.

I cut a stare at Sabrina before shaking it. “It’s Andrew. Not Lincoln. And it’s nice to meet you, Jennifer. I need a tux.”

The sales associate smiles. “Of course I remember you… Andrew. You’re hard to forget it.”

I release her hand, eager to keep this as short and simple as possible—and if feasible, painless.

But Sabrina seems determined to make me squirm, and she pushes me ahead like I’m a toddler—a toddler who’s still learning the basics of walking, her tiny hands pushing in the center of my back, prodding me forward over the luxe carpeted floor.

“He’s joking, of course. We don’t just need a tux. We need a beautiful tux. Same cut as the other groomsmen in Hannah’s wedding. Only better.” Sabrina hums. “With some flair.”

My jaw clenches. She’s toying with me.

Looks like a miserable tux man is exactly what I’m going to be.

But I keep that to myself.

“For the Fletchers?” Jennifer eyes me carefully. “Anything. I'll be right back to help you get set up. It'll only take a moment.”

“I’ll go with you,” I tell Sabrina, but my sister’s already disappeared behind a curtain of her own.

“Don’t worry,” Jennifer purrs as I stare after Bri, missing the backup already. “Let me worry about measuring you.”

The blonde nods toward a set of curtains. “We’ll get you fitted and get this over with.” She gives me just a quick glance. “Safer that way.”

“Safer?” I ask, but she’s already disappeared behind the curtains. Behind the last one on the right.

I follow her and she gestures at a series of three-dimensional wooden dummies, one of which resembles a man.