A Little Too Far (23 page)

I can’t speak past the hot, pulsing lump in my throat.

“You never seem to run out of ways to blow my mind, Lexie. You’re my best friend,
and
you’re the one woman I can imagine spending the rest of my life with. Do you know how lucky that makes me? Marry me. Please.”

When I still can’t speak, he draws me off the bed, and I curl into him where he kneels on the floor.

“Please.” He cradles my face in his hands, wiping my tears with his thumbs. “I miss you so much, and I never want us to be apart again.”

“I love you,” I whisper.

An unsure smile plays over his perfect lips, and his eyebrow quirks. “Is that a yes?”

I sniffle back tears and nod, and he pulls the ring out of the box and slides it onto my finger.

He showers my face with kisses, and pure, unadulterated joy bubbles out of me in laughter, but then his kisses find my mouth, tender and sweet. His fingers thread into my hair as his lips brush softly over mine.

“I love you, Lexie,” he whispers. “I always have.”

After a brief pause for an equipment change and to relocate to the bed, he loves me again, and this time it’s warm and gentle and so tender that it hurts. My heart sings to the slow rhythm, and I never want the feeling to end. I want to lie in this bed forever as he moves on top of me, inside me, through me. I’ve never felt closer to anyone than I do right this second. And as he brings me slowly and surely to the sweetest, most intense climax I’ve ever experienced, I know. We were made for this—for each other. Nothing we could have said or done would have changed it.

After, I lay curled in his embrace, drinking in his spicy scent, his strong, sure arms, his warmth, and all else that is Trent, and we fall asleep. When I wake, it’s dark, but in the little bit of moonlight filtering through the window, I see by the sparkle of his beautiful brown eyes that he’s awake too.

He kisses my cheek. “Are you happy?”

I moan my affirmative and burrow deeper into his warmth.

He sighs, deep and weary, and I pull my face out of his shoulder and look at him, suddenly worried. “Aren’t you?”

He bites his lips between his teeth, and I stop breathing for a second, afraid he’s changed his mind. “I am,” he finally answers. “I just realized why I’ve never been happy with anyone else. I’ve been looking for you in every girl I’ve ever been with.”

The second he says it, I feel like I’ve been kicked in the stomach. “Oh, shit!”

His eyes spring wide. “What?”

“What about Sam?”

He grimaces. “She’s a little pissed at me right now.”

“At
you
?” I thought it would be
me
she was furious with.

He tucks a strand of my crazy, just-fucked hair behind my ear. “I told her I’m in love with someone else.”

“You didn’t tell her it was
me
?”

He shakes his head. “I know we have some things to work out before we go public with this, so, no. Mom and Randy don’t even know I’m here. They think I’m spending spring break on campus.”

My stomach knots at the thought of what “going public” means. I focus on the smaller picture to keep from launching into a full-on panic attack, and for the moment, the smaller picture is Sam. “You were . . . together, right? So, she probably assumed, you know, that you loved
her.
”

He sighs. “That first night, when she came by the house just after you left, we went out and talked”—his gaze lifts to mine—“mostly about you. I wanted to know if you’d maybe said anything . . . told her you were into someone. We sort of connected, and by Thanksgiving, it was obvious you didn’t want anything to do with me, so I was just trying to do what you wanted. I was trying to move on, but . . .” He trails off and scratches the top of his head. “I couldn’t.”

“Why would you think that I didn’t want anything to do with you?”

“Well, let’s see . . . maybe it was when you texted me you’d confessed everything and hoped you wouldn’t . . . how did you put it . . . burn in hell? Yeah, that was it. And then you never texted me again.”

He sounds a little angry, which makes me a little defensive. “I did too!”

“Only an occasional picture, or a line or two in response to my texts. I figured you didn’t want to hear from me anymore.”

He’s right. “I was just . . . seriously confused.”

“Well, Sam wasn’t. I even told her I was on the rebound, and I didn’t see anything serious happening between us, but she didn’t care.”

“So you slept with her.”

“Lexie,” he says, lifting his fingers to my face and pulling my gaze back to his, “I never slept with her. I haven’t slept with anyone since you.”

I shake his hand off my face but hold his gaze. “You went out with her the night you got home for Christmas—left me standing there.”

“We agreed that nothing could happen between us before you left. I was just trying to honor that. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“But the concert . . . the Hyatt.”

“We went to the concert and dinner, but I told her I couldn’t stay.”

“But she . . . she . . .”

“She wanted more. I know that, and I’m sorry. But I was straight up with her from the beginning . . . well, not about you, but about the fact that there was someone else.”

“So, at Christmas, if I’d . . . if I’d gotten up the nerve to tell you I was in love with you, you would have said, ‘Okay’ and not gone out with Sam?”

His eyes darken, and his voice gets quiet. “I would have made love to you all night long.”

My heart aches so hard. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I whisper.

“I wasn’t sure you wanted to hear it . . . how you’d react. I was scared.”

I don’t get it. “You’ve always been so confident with girls. Why were you scared?”

His fingertip traces my eyebrow, and I shiver. “It’s easy to be confident when there’s nothing to lose. When the stakes are everything . . . you . . . it’s a little harder.”

Even now, there’s something a little unsure in his voice. I pull him closer because I need him to know there’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here, in his arms. “I should have said it.”

His lips brush my forehead, and I close my eyes and revel in the feeling of Trent this close. “I wanted to tell you how I felt. I planned it, a whole big speech pretty similar to the text you sent me. But then I couldn’t read you. Everything was so awkward, and you seemed weird about being around me. We’d never been like that before, and it nearly killed me.” He shrugs. “I chickened out, afraid to make it worse, I guess. And, stupidly, I kind of I hoped you might say something to stop me from going with Sam if you’d changed your mind. Then I’d know what you were thinking. But you didn’t.”

“I want to hear it.”

“What?”

I pull back and look into his sincere chocolate eyes. Butterflies tickle my stomach with the sudden realization this is real. He’s really here. He came halfway around the world for me. I thumb the diamond on my finger as the love I have for this amazing man swells and overflows, nearly drowning me. “Your speech. The one you had planned. I want to hear it.”

The hint of a smile settles over his gorgeous face. “Wow. Talk about putting a guy on the spot. Okay . . . so . . . it went something like this.” He blows out a nervous breath and locks his gaze on mine. “Do you know how lucky we are? I think we found each other too soon in life to recognize what we had, but the truth is, I’ll never know anyone as well as I know you, and I’ll never love anyone so much. I’m sorry I can’t be who you thought I was. I can’t be the brother you look up to anymore. Not when all I can think about is being more to you. From the first time I met you, you’ve affected me like no one else ever has. I don’t want to hide it from ourselves or the world anymore. I love you and I want to be with you. Some people might think the stepsister/stepbrother thing is a little warped, but they say the most stable relationships are the ones that are based in friendship. We have that.”

He kisses me, and I lose myself for a second, but then I remember all the hurdles we still have and what he said about “going public.” “So, what happens now?” I ask, parroting back his words from right after the first time we made love.

His fingers stroke down my back, sending goose bumps over my skin. “First this,” he says, rolling on top of me and kissing me again, slow and deep.

I smile up at him as an electric tingle ripples through me. “And second?”

He props himself above me on his elbows. “We need to tell our parents.”

“What do we say? ‘Hey guys, guess what! Trent and I have secretly been sleeping together for months.’ ”

He brushes my hair off my shoulder and kisses my neck. “I can’t speak for you, but I’m going to tell them how I feel. I’m going to tell them I’m in love with you.”

I trace my fingertip along the lines of the tattoo over his heart and press my palm into it, feeling his heartbeat. It’s slow and steady and calm, and I realize mine is too. All the panic is gone. Our matching kanji tattoos over our hearts—the symbol for knowledge. Our hearts know. They always have. “I am so in love with you.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

“M
EN
ARE DIRTBAGS,
that’s all there is to it.” Sam slouches into the blue vinyl chair in the back of Starbucks clutching her iced mocha to her chest as she finishes her tirade against men in general and Trent in specific.

Katie looks at me with a grimace. “Speaking of which, did you hear about Rick?”

“Rick,” I say with a shake of my head. Three and a half years of my life, and it feels like it belonged to someone else. Even though I didn’t realize it at the time, Rick was all about going through the motions. There was no intensity. No passion. “No. What about Rick?”

She grimaces. “Stacey’s pregnant, and she’s saying it’s his.”

I hang my head. There’s no gloating. No one wins here. “Wow. That’s tough.”

“Like I said, dirtbags,” Sam mutters.

I sip my espresso, and my face scrunches involuntarily. It’s not nearly as strong or good as Italian espresso. I can’t help the mournful emptiness in my chest at the memory of so many afternoons sipping espresso with Alessandro. I hope he’s okay. “I don’t know if they’re
all
dirtbags.”

“Well, let’s start close to home, shall we?” Sam says, sitting straighter. “Your ex-boyfriend. Dirtbag, yes or no?”

I nod. “I’ll concede that one.”

“Your brother. Dirtbag or no?” she fires, her eyes narrowing to slits.

“No.”

Her mouth drops into an O as her eyes fly wide. “So a guy treats
you
like shit, and he’s a dirtbag, but he treats
me
like shit, and he’s not?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Her eyes narrow again, and her fist clenches the plastic cup so hard, I’m expecting it to explode all over her at any second. “Yes you did. I asked point-blank if your stepbrother was a dirtbag, and you said no.”

I swallow. I wish I could just tell her. I’ve been home four weeks, and Trent and I have been waiting for the right time to tell Dad and Julie. We have to tell them first, that much we know. But when I first got home, Julie was all, “Oh my word, Lexie! It’s so good to have you home!” and, “Our whole family is finally together again!” I didn’t want to ruin all that with our big confession, so I talked Trent into waiting. Then Julie got all weepy for like a week and kept saying how this was going to be the last of our time as a family because Trent had graduated and would be “flying the coop,” so I didn’t want to make her feel worse. But the longer we wait, the more awkward the whole thing gets.

“I just mean . . . did he ever lie to you?” I ask, remembering what Trent told me.

“Yes,” she spits.

“What did he say that wasn’t true?”

“He . . .” She bites her cheek for a second as she thinks, but then her eyes widen and shoot to me. “You knew, didn’t you? And you didn’t tell me? He told you he was into someone else.”

I shake my head. “No. That’s not what I meant.”

She springs out of her chair and glares down at me. “He did! He told you, and you just let me go on about him like some kind of pathetic loser.”

“No, Sam. I didn’t know he was in love with someone else until just a few weeks ago.”

“He’s in
love
with her?” she says, exasperated, her free hand flying to her perfect auburn waves and yanking. Her eyes widen even more. “Oh my God! He told you who, didn’t he?”

I drop my head into my hand, warding off the headache that’s brewing behind my eyes. “Yes. He told me.”

She flops into her chair. “Who is it?”

When I lift my head and look up at her, there’s murder in her eyes. “Who it is doesn’t matter. He said he told you from the start that there was someone else.”

She slouches back in her seat and folds her arms across her chest. “He also said she wasn’t into him.” She glares up at me. “He just told me a few months ago that she’d met someone else. Why would he say that if he didn’t want me to try to take his mind off her?”

I shrug. “I don’t know, Sam. Maybe he was just trying to be honest. Maybe he just needed to talk to someone.” I remember his saying how happy he was that I’d found someone to confide in. He didn’t have anyone.

Katie’s straw slurps in the bottom of her iced-coffee cup, and I look at her.

“How much weight did you say you lost?” I ask to change the subject before I get myself into serious trouble.

“Thirty-two pounds,” she says proudly. Apparently, her roommate at San Diego talked her into joining one of those fat-burning boot camps. It’s turned her into a whole new person. Her dark brown hair is pulled back off her face, and she’s wearing lip gloss and mascara. Her neckline is a little lower than I ever remember seeing before, and she’s in shorts instead of her usual jeans. I’ve always thought she was pretty, but now she’s stunning.

“You look amazing. Maybe I should try your boot camp,” I say.

She rolls her eyes but smiles.

When Katie drops me off at home, and her Beetle chugs away, Julie is on her way out.

“I’m running out to the store,” she says, giving me a quick hug. “Is there anything you need?”

“I don’t think so.”

“If you think of anything, text me.”

“ ’Kay, Julie.”

“Your dad will be home around seven, so we’ll plan on eating then.” She closes the door, and when I head up the stairs, I hear Trent singing in the shower. I’m more than a little tempted to join him in there, but I restrain myself. Instead, I head to my laptop at my desk and flip it open. When I see I’ve got one unread e-mail, I assume it’s from Abby. Grant was in London this past weekend. The fact that he made the trip surprised me in a good way, but I’m still worried about her. I spin her leather bracelet on my wrist as I open my in-box.

And my heart stops.

My hand is shaking as I click on Alessandro’s e-mail.

Dearest Lexie,

The Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Antica notified me that you’d received the internship offer. I’ve been in Rome for the past few days and went to the gallery today, expecting to find you there. I was surprised when they told me you’d turned the offer down. Whatever the reason for your choice, I hope you’re happy.

I’m writing because I feel the need to apologize for myself. I felt this would be best done in person, but as there is now a continent separating us, I’ll have to rely on modern technology to relay my sincere regret for the way I exploited your trust.

I encouraged you to confide in me. I took advantage of my position to earn your trust, then I betrayed it and your friendship by making advances. I knew you didn’t love me. I knew your true affections lay elsewhere, and I put you in an impossible position. I will be forever sorry for that.

I am still unsure of my path, but it is becoming more clear. I don’t believe I’m well suited for the priesthood, but I believe, through the children’s ministry, I can still serve and make a difference. Father Costa’s support has been invaluable. I’ve confessed my shortcomings to him and the Lord, and through his counsel I’ve begun to sort through how I came to the place I am now and what the proper course is from here. It’s been a painful lesson, but I feel stronger knowing the truth. Not everyone is meant for the calling. You helped me see that I am not.

My grandparents ask about you often and send you their warmest regards. I would be grateful for a reply so can I pass your news along to them. Mom asks about you as well. She’s doing better now that I’ve left the priesthood.

I wish you much happiness, Lexie, and I hope there’ll come a time you can look back on our months together in Rome fondly. I know I’ll never forget you.

All Warm Wishes,

Alessandro

I don’t hear the door open, which means I must have been truly zoned out because the hinges still squeak.

“Hey,” Trent says, sweeping my hair aside and leaning down behind me to kiss the ticklish spot just below my ear. He’s in a fresh T-shirt and jeans, and he smells like soap.

I reach up and grab a fistful of his damp brown hair, nuzzling my face into it. “Sam is going to hate us forever.”

He turns his head and kisses me properly, hard on the lips. “She’ll get over it.”

“How are we going to do this?” I ask, my heart twisting in my chest. “People are going to think—”

“We’ve been over this, Lexie,” he interrupts. “We can hide forever, or we can tell people. There aren’t many other choices.”

“We could move to Machu Picchu,” I say with a cringe.

“Americans are getting kidnapped there.” I hear the smirk in his voice as he stands behind me and rubs my shoulders, and even though I want to be mad, I feel myself melting into his capable hands.

“We have to tell our parents first,” I say, tipping my cheek into the back of his hand as the tension slips out of my shoulders.

“And then I’ll talk to Sam,” he says.

And the tension is back.

“She thinks we’re conspiring.” I blow out a breath and roll my neck. “She has no idea.”

He leans over my shoulder and kisses me again, then starts to pull me out of my desk chair by the hand. “I’m all for a little conspiring,” he says with a wicked smile.

I untwist my fingers from his. “Give me a minute, okay? I have to answer this e-mail.”

He looks over my shoulder at the laptop screen. “That the priest?”

I nod. “He’s not going through with it, I guess.”

He looks at me. “Because of you?”

I’ve told Trent everything. He knows about what happened with Alessandro on my dining-room table, and he knows I stopped because of him.

I shrug. “Partly. He says what happened with us helped him see that he wasn’t meant for the priesthood.”

“Take your time.” He backs toward my bed and flops onto it. “I’ll just be over here.”

I smirk over my shoulder at him. “Like your lying on my bed looking all, ‘do me, Lexie,’ isn’t going to distract me.”

He clicks on my TV, queuing up Warcraft, then adjusts the pillows and props his head in his free hand. I take a second to ogle the sliver of perfect bronze skin between the hem of his T-shirt and the waistband of his jeans.

“Do me, Lexie,” he whispers with a covert smile as Jethro charges headlong into a barrage of orcs. His amused gaze flicks to mine, and he grins.

I roll my eyes, then turn back to my computer screen and hit
REPLY
.

I breathe deep, trying to remember all the things I was prepared to tell Alessandro if I’d found him at the rectory after Easter.

Dear Alessandro,

I don’t know where to begin. I feel like what happened between us was more because I wasn’t respectful of boundaries. I knew nothing could ever happen between us, or at least, that’s what I thought, so I flirted with you and led you on. It was horrible and selfish. I just never thought it all the way through, and I’m so sorry for that. I never realized what I was doing to you.

That night in my apartment, you asked if I had feelings for you. I do. You are probably the best person I will ever know, and you will always hold a special place in my heart. I have always believed that you could make a difference in this world, and I know no matter what path you choose from here, you will do exactly that. But you’re right, my true feelings lie with Trent. He’s asked me to marry him. We haven’t told our parents yet, but we’re going to have to. Soon.

Thank you so much for everything you did on my behalf regarding the internship. I’m sorry to have disappointed you. It was a painful decision, but after a lot of soul-searching, I just felt like I needed to come home. And, yes, I’m happy. I hope you find happiness too.

Please say hello to your family for me.

All warm wishes,

Lexie

I hit
SEND
and stare at my screen for another minute before flipping my laptop closed. “So, we’re doing this tonight?” I ask as I stand and face Trent.

“I don’t want to keep sneaking around, Lexie.” Trent pauses Warcraft and hauls himself off the bed, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into his body.

And,
mmm. . .

I kiss his Adam’s apple. “Me either, but it’s not like they’re going to let me move into your bedroom or anything.”

He tips his head and looks down at me. “I told you, this isn’t about the sex. This is about us spending the rest of our lives together.”

“It’s a little about the sex,” I murmur into his chest.

I feel his chuckle under my cheek.

The truth is, since I’ve been home, I’ve become a total nymph. I want Trent all the time. Most nights, I’m in his bed as soon as our parents turn out the lights downstairs. I’ve gotten pretty good at being quiet when Trent does what he does and makes me feel what he makes me feel, but there are times I just have to bite on a pillow as I scream and hope our parents are sound sleepers.

We haven’t been getting much sleep, but I’ve never felt so alive.

Dad is usually up for work by six, so Trent sets his alarm for five so whoever’s not where they belong can go back to their own bed before anyone finds us. He’s right. It’s been four weeks of sneaking around, and I know it’s wrong, but the fact is, if our parents know about us, they’re likely to start paying attention to our whereabouts, which wouldn’t bode well for my newfound nymphomania.

I slip my fingers under the waistband of Trent’s jeans, tracing along the small of his back, around the sides to his cut abs, and end at the button of his jeans, which I flick open.

“Lex,” he warns with a glance at the door, but it’s halfhearted because his fingers are trailing along the curve of my breast. His thumb finds my hardening nipple and rubs through my clothes, and I want his skin on mine.

Now.

“Julie’s shopping.” I pull my shirt off as he unhooks my bra, and before I know it, he’s lifted me off the ground and carried me the few steps to the bed. He lays me down and tugs his shirt over his head as I kick my jeans and thong to the floor.

He glances back at the door as if he’s thinking twice.

“Uh-uh, mister,” I say as he starts to balk where he stands at the side of the bed. “Don’t even think about quitting now.” I sit up on the bed and unzip him, freeing his sizable erection from his navy boxer briefs. I pull him to me with a belt loop, so he’s standing between my knees, then grab him with both hands and squeeze as I lean forward. When I take him into my mouth, he tips his head back, and moans. “Christ, Lexie.”