Chapter Three
I’m sitting on the couch with a towel wrapped around my shoulders, wearing Zoey’s sweatpants and a tank top. Her bra wouldn’t fit me, so I’m pretty sure my nipples are on full display.
Luckily, after the fall, the party dispersed. Porter ushered Ryerson in the opposite direction, and I haven’t seen him since. I vaguely remember asking Zoey if I was under arrest, but she laughed and plopped me down on the couch.
I’m sober now. But my naturally curly hair has gone from adorable to frizz-tastic. It’s still wet, and yet I have a giant halo of fuzz. I’m too humiliated to walk back into Zoey’s room and ask for a hair band.
Ryerson walks into the living room holding two bottles of beer in his right hand, and sits down next to me. He takes one of those bottles and hands it to.
“You seem like you could use it,” he says, trying not to smile.
I accept the drink, and down a big, icy gulp. “I wish I had a hair dryer,” I say, and pick up a bottom curl.
He shakes his head emphatically. “No, I like it,” he says. “You look like a maniac.”
I laugh into my beer, and take another sip before setting it on the coffee table. When I sit back on the couch, feeling a little better, I notice Ryerson’s eyes on my nipples. He quickly looks away, but there’s a little smirk on his lips before he puts his arm around the back cushion.
Well, this is humiliating.
I turn to him. “I’m—”
“I’m—” he says at the same time. We laugh awkwardly, and he motions for me to continue.
I roll my eyes because I can’t handle this level of embarrassment right now. I don’t typically get embarrassed. I roll with the punches. But this fucking guy has me twenty shades of red. I have to look away.
“I’m sorry I kissed you and knocked us into the pool and almost drowned you,” I say quickly, and then shrug like it’s not a big deal. He doesn’t say anything, and I hate that I have to turn to him and see his expression. He’s smiling.
“That’s funny, Miss Cheyenne, because I was about to say, ‘I’m so glad you kissed me and almost drowned me.’ But I guess I’m more into the rough stuff.”
There’s a tightening my belly, and I just about pass out from his hotness. Instead, I grab my beer, and take another sip. Where the hell is Zoey?
As if I conjured her out of the grave, my best friend comes into the living room, her stick straight hair pulled up into a ponytail, a toothbrush clenched in the side of her teeth. She stops abruptly when she sees me on the couch with Ryerson.
“What is this?” she asks around her toothbrush.
“We’re just having a beer, Zo,” he says, although there’s a hitch in his raspy voice like he knows she’ll be mad anyway. Well, he’s right.
“Nope,” she says, taking the toothbrush out of her mouth, and pointing it at him. “No, no, no. You,” she points her brush at me, “are sleeping in the guest room. And it’s late. You should be there now. I’ll bring you blankets.”
I furrow my brow. I’ve never see Zoey this protective. She’s usually my hook-up cheerleader. All “Rah, Rah, DO HIM!” But right now, she’s blocking him pretty hard.
I glance at Ryerson, and his jaw is clenched. He’s glaring at Zoey like she’s out of line, but he doesn’t tell her so. Eventually, he leans further back on the couch, and drinks somberly from his beer. I feel kind of bad for him. I’m about to comfort him, when Porter appears in the doorway with a handful of folded blankets. He also stops when he sees us on the couch. It’s not like we’re naked. I don’t get it.
Porter doesn’t go all Zoey on us, though. He smiles a little stiffly, and then brings the blankets to the couch. He places them between Ryerson and I—a blockade between our thighs.
“Did you still want to look at the bike?” Porter asks him, pointing to where I assume is the garage door. Porter’s new motorcycle is a huge source of pride for him. Zoey likes it because, as she says, “It’s a vibrator on wheels.” So they go riding pretty often.
Ryerson sniffs a laugh, and gets up. “Yeah, sure,” he says unenthusiastically, and starts that way. Before he leaves the room, he stops and turns back to me.
“Sleep tight, Miss Cheyenne,” he says, and flashes me a little smile before walking out. When he’s gone, I’m still staring at the doorway.
“Uh, you too?” I reply to him, confused. I turn to Zoey, and she immediately laughs.
“He wants you to stay tight,” she says.
“You’re being a dragonlady,” I tell her, getting to my feet and leaving the beer behind. “What’s your problem with him?”
Zoey sighs heavily, puts her arm around me, and walks me toward the guest room. I try not to get grossed out that she’s touching me on the shoulder with her used toothbrush.
“I’m too tired to talk about him tonight,” she says, and yawns. She’s minty fresh. “I need to go fuck my fiancé and get some sleep,” she says causally. I push her off me.
“Yeah, go do that,” I say, motioning to the door.
“Fine,” she says in our pretend arguing voice. “I will!”
“And I hope you enjoy it!” I respond.
“I’m going to!” She smiles broadly, and gives me a quick hug goodnight. “See you in the morning.”
***
The guest room is too warm, and I twist and turn in the sheets, kicking them off. I sit up in bed, dim light trickling in from behind the window curtains, and I pull my curls in a high knot to get them off my neck. I strip off the tank top and sweatpants, and lie back in my dainty white panties.
Still too hot.
There’s a soft knock at the door, and I glance in that direction, and pull the sheet up to cover myself. Zoey must know I’m nearly naked, otherwise she would have just walked in.
“What?” I ask. I glance at the clock and it’s nearly five in the morning. I haven’t slept at all. Maybe she couldn’t either.
The door creaks open, and I just about faint when Ryerson pokes his head in. He holds out a bottle of water.
“Thought you might need this,” he whispers. “It’s hot as balls in this house.”
I laugh, tucking the sheet under my arms. “It’s like the depths of hell.”
He bites back his smile, and enters the room. He closes the door behind him, and I audibly gulp. It’s still nighttime, but not dark enough. Ryerson is dressed in his jeans, no shirt. No belt.
Oh my God. Where is his shirt?
“Here you go, Miss Cheyenne,” he says, sitting down next to me on the bed. I pull my legs underneath me to give him room, and thank him. The water is cold, and it sends a shiver down my skin when I take a sip.
“Refreshing?” Ryerson asks.
“Very,” I say. He doesn’t move from my bed, but he notices my clothes on the floor near his feet. He glances sideways at me, running his eyes over my protective sheet. “You naked under there?” he asks.
I take another sip of cold water. “Not entirely.”
He doesn’t divert his eyes. “Can I see?” he whispers.
An ache starts between my legs, and I can’t deny that his request has hit me exactly right. I’m torn on what to say next—a good decision/bad decision moment.
Ryerson continues to watch me, his dark eyes shining in the light from the window. They’re deep and compelling, dangerous. He licks his lower lip.
I reach over and set the water on the nightstand, and then I lower the sheet to my lap—putting myself on full display. My heart is racing, my nerve at an all-time high. I won’t think of Zoey’s warning, not with someone this hot in my bed. Time for regrets is in the morning. Or at least, much later in the morning.
Ryerson drags his gaze slowly over me, and his chest rises and falls as he breathes, growing rapid. He lifts his eyes to mine, and smiles.
“Those are quite beautiful,” he says playfully. “Mind if I—” He nods toward my breasts, and I don’t know what to say. What to do.
I’m usually the aggressor, the kisser, the handsy one. I’ll admit… guys sometimes find me intimidating because of this, but I always figured that meant they weren’t the right guy. Now I’m on the other side of the scenario, and I can barely talk.
“You’re a bad idea,” I blurt out at the same time I lie back against the pillows.
Ryerson lifts one corner of his full lips. “Definitely,” he murmurs.
I lazily reach my arms behind my head, inviting him closer. He moves slowly, drawing out the moment, and I just about die waiting.
He gets on this stomach next to me, propped up on his elbow. He runs his finger across my stomach, and I gasp before meeting his eyes again. He’s watching me, watching my reactions. His stare alone could be enough to make me orgasm.
His fingertip glides up my stomach, and circles the lower curve of my left breast, and then it moves higher and circles my nipple. I moan softly, unexpectedly, and I hear a low growl response in his throat.
He hand moves to cup my waist, and he turns me toward him. I’m so out of breath, out of my mind, clearly, that I don’t expect it when he kisses me fiercely. His mouth is burning hot against mine because of the cold water, and I knot my fingers in his dark hair. Ryerson hikes my thigh over his hip, and presses into me. I moan again, and pull his hair a little harder.
I want him. No, I need him right now. I haven’t been this attracted to someone… well, ever. “Please,” I say, although I don’t even know what I’m asking for. I just want more.
Ryerson pushes me back on the bed, and he holds the side of my neck as his mouth goes to my breast, pulling hard on my nipple, and making me draw in a harsh breath. My eyes roll back, and he spreads my legs with his knees to lie between them. I can feel how hard he is underneath his jeans. How big he is. I reach down to grip him, and he pulls back to look down at me. He looks hungry, beautiful, sexy.
He continues to watch me, his hand on my breast as I reach inside his jeans and feel his whole length. His lips part, his eyelids flutter. I have complete control of him, and I take it. I tighten my grip, and he bares his teeth.
He may have been the aggressor, but he wants me to take charge. I put my other hand on his chest and push him back to his knees, and then I get on mine in front of him. I move my hand quicker, and he moans, and leans forward to kiss my neck, his tongue against my skin.
My grip moves faster, and then he runs his teeth along my earlobe, breathing heavy. In a swift movement, his hand slides over my ass and tears my panties to the side. He rubs between my legs, rubbing my wetness from front to back and I can’t even keep the soft sounds from escaping my lips. His finger dips inside me, and my entire body clenches. Already? We’ve barely started.
He doesn’t stop. He kisses me hard on the mouth, and with each thrust of his finger, I gasp between his lips. He rubs me again, and I need complete release. I need him.
I quickly undo his jeans, and move away from him to lie back. My eyes are heavy-lidded, my entire body shaking, slick with excitement.
Ryerson stays on his knees, his manhood proudly on display. He runs his gaze over my body, laid out for him. He runs his palm flat from my neck to between my legs, pressing hard. I moan again.
He licks his lips, and meets my eyes. “I can’t have sex with you,” he says in his raspy voice. “Zo would kill me.”
“Wait, what?” I ask in between little gasps as he continues to press his hand between my legs.
“I’m going to get you off,” he allows. “But I promised not to sleep with you. I always keep my promises.”
I’m still trying to process what he’s saying, when he pushes my knees apart again. And then his face is between my thighs, and his tongue is still so hot. The entire room starts to spin, and at one point, I’m pretty sure I lose complete control of my voice because he stops licking for a moment to laugh, and asks me to please quiet down.
I orgasm in a heavy, satisfying wave that clenches and releases me from the top of my curls to the tips of my toes. Ryerson kisses his way up my body, and then collapses next to me, pulling me to lay on his chest. I can’t even move, so I let him.
We’re both panting, our bodies molding together. I find myself snuggling against him, and Ryerson reaches out to undo my knot and let my hair cascade over my shoulders. He leans over to kiss my forehead.
“You’ll sleep well,” he says with a little laugh.
“What about you?” I ask, my voice muffled against his chest.
“Another time,” he says. “The sun’s about to come up. Let’s just say you’ll owe me.”
I’m not sure I want to owe him anything, but he’s right. I’m completely spent, completely at ease. And I don’t realize when I drift off against him.