CHAPTER 9
I tripped on the entryway into my bedroom even though there was no snag or carpet or anything to cause the stumble.
I found it hilarious.
I covered my mouth with my hands, but I managed only to turn my giggles into snorts. It made it even funnier. I bent over, laughing my ass off.
“Thanks so much, honey. I hated that toe, anyway.”
I turned around so Slade’s glittering, bleary eyes could meet mine in the dark.
“Sorry,” I whispered loudly.
“Apologies work better if you’re not spluttering through them.”
That made me snicker—little hitching noises that made my whole body move in the same rhythm, foiling any attempt I made to slip my dress off smoothly. I pulled it over my head, but the bodice was so tight, and—crappity crap—I forgot to undo the zipper at the side.
“Noooo!” I danced sideways and thumped to the floor.
“You are so drunk, babe.” His voice was heavy with exhaustion, but the sarcasm came through no problem.
“Oooobviously,” I sang.
I heard the pad of footsteps draw near and soon felt his hands gripping the bottom of my dress and pulling it off me with the smooth precision I’d been aiming for. The force drew me up, and I landed on the hardwood with a plunk once set free.
“Owie,” I said, still chortling.
“Man,” was all I heard before he wrapped me in his arms and carried me naked to the bed. “And I thought Reagan was the drunk one.”
“Me, too! Who knew she had a secret Stalquist living inside her.”
I couldn’t remember how it happened, but one minute I was holding a vodka soda and the next, a tequila shot. After three, Reagan and I shoved to the front of the stage with Slade following reluctantly and danced and thrust with the best of them while screaming Nate’s name.
I did remember trying to do the robot in time with Nate’s drumbeats.
I didn’t care. I just danced and let go, forgetting about myself. I didn’t think of photographers or blogs or humiliation. I just thought of having fun, and it was wondrous.
Fuzzily thinking back, maybe I should have cared more. But in that moment, I didn’t give a damn.
After Nate finished his set, he threw his drumsticks into the crowd, which I tried to dive into the throng for. Unsuccessfully.
Reagan pulled me and Slade out of the fray and back to the bar where we took more tequila shots and waited for Nate to join us—wait, they might have been kamikazes by that point. Whatever that was. Limey.
Nate saw and commiserated with Slade over our state but humored us anyway, attempting to talk to us about classes, but he shut up as soon as Reagan started jeering at him about being a lame-o. Instead, he switched to asking me about myself—how I liked the city, what my favorite haunts were. I told him I traveled to games with Slade when I could and studied, for the most part, trying to fit into the brand new lifestyle I’d fallen into.
“No, but what about you?” Nate asked.
“What?” I held my drink closer to my lips.
“I mean, you’ve told me all about Slade, but you haven’t told me where you like to go. Or would enjoy going, given the chance.”
“Oh,” I said, chewing on my straw. A defensive tautness was building inside me, a stiffness that seemed all the worse with Nate’s pale green eyes beaming down on me.
I glanced over at Slade, wondering if he’d heard, but he was in a discussion with Reagan, whose back was against the bar. Slade was bending down close so he could hear her.
They were interrupted by a guy in his twenties, tapping his finger on Slade’s shoulder, then smiling widely when Slade turned around. The guy held his phone, gesturing with it. Slade nodded at him while shaking his hand before throwing his arm around the guy’s shoulder so the guy could raise his phone and take a selfie.
Reagan laughed at something Slade said, resting her hand on his forearm and mouthing something that looked suspiciously like, “He thought I was your girlfriend.”
Put off by her statement, I stepped closer to them with Nate forced to follow in order to keep hearing me. “Slade’s journey has exposed me to more areas of this country than I ever could have traveled to on my own,” I said in answer to his question. “And when my time comes to be a lawyer, I plan to show him a different world, too.”
“Oh really?”
He was mocking me. Was he mocking me? The liquor blurred his face into one of disbelief and disdain.
“Maybe not in the traveling sense, but he’s interested in my path, same as I support his.”
“All right.”
“We balance each other out.”
“Okay.”
“Our differences…” My voice became louder, my hand gestures more forced. “They’re what brought us together in the first place.”
“Sure,” Nate said after a long draw from his beer.
And with that dismissive sip, unqualified anger seeped under my skin. “I’m not disappearing.”
The bottle lowered, his stare leveling with mine.
I went to latch onto Slade’s arm and tell him it was time to leave but could barely hold my balance. With the snap movements of someone stone-cold sober, Nate righted me, a ghost of a smile on his face as his nose came close to mine.
“Careful there,” he said.
“Hey, you okay?” Slade’s hand caught my upper arm.
Nate’s attention shifted up, and he let go of me with a tight smile. There was a moment of silence between the two of them so thick the music, the people, and the raucous atmosphere around us had trouble penetrating it. Finally, Nate stepped back, saying to me, “Your boyfriend’s got you.”
It was either reassurance or total dickishness coming out of his mouth. I wasn’t sure which.
“Totally,” I said, mimicking his arrogance by leaning back, too, but Slade must’ve moved left because he wasn’t where I expected him to be.
The last thing I remember was crashing to the floor in a tangle of my limbs and Reagan’s elbows.
Scanning the walls of my bedroom and the lovely naked man leaning over me, I assumed somehow Slade brought me home.
“You,” I said to Slade. “C’mere.”
“Oh, no you don’t,” Slade said, giving my butt a light tap as he pulled the covers over me. He leaped over my wriggling body and landed lithely on his side of the bed. “I have to wake up in two hours.”
“Hmm.” I pretended to ponder this. “I don’t care.”
“I would never presume otherwise, my love.”
The bed shifted as he turned on his side, his back facing me. The covers were up to his waist, exposing the long line running down the middle of his back. The city lights bathed him in a milky blue silhouette, and I followed the span of his shoulders, the muscles there shifting under his skin as he burrowed deeper into the comfortableness.
I traced the curve of his torso and the rise of his hip and rested my hand on the two dimples on his lower back. With a devious smile, my fingers traced circles on those dimples, my touch nothing but a gentle breeze.
“Char…” The tone was warning.
I propped myself up on my elbow, gliding my hand to the front.
“Char.”
I moved so my body was pressed to his. My lips molded to his shoulder, and I mapped little kisses across it until I bared my teeth and nipped.
He groaned, shifting onto his back.
I lifted so I was straddling him, laying my lips on the hollow underneath his earlobe. Then I kissed the beginning of his jawline—the place I knew would send shivers and tingles down his body.
He jolted underneath me, his fingers digging into my hips as he tried to direct me down.
“Nuh-uh,” I singsonged and then traced his lips with my tongue. “I’m in charge.”
I rose onto my knees, knowing what the sight was doing to him. The blue-white light would capture my body perfectly, turning my skin into marble, blurring just enough of my face to turn it into fl
awless perfection.
I combed my hair back and threw most of it to one side in that sexy, disheveled look he loved. Especially if I was naked.
“Shit…” He reached for me.
I impressed myself with my reflexes when I caught his wrists and held him down. But with that action, I’d sealed my demise. It placed my body at a perfect angle where my head was above his and my hands were occupied holding his wrists. He lifted his chin and caught one of my nipples with his mouth.
“Damn iiiiit…” My voice trailed into a groan, and I accepted my defeat.
He growled, a sexy, husky sound deep inside his throat, and grazed my nipple with his teeth.
He lifted me and flipped me over. My limbs were so supple I gave in to any movement he demanded, including being thrown onto my back.
His body was hot and tight and tense with need when he hovered above me, blocked out the light, and drove into me.
I cried out and curled my legs around his hips, meeting his every thrust with my own. My nails scraped down his back, and his breathing sent hot clouds against my ear, cascading pinpricks of pleasure down my neck and turning my breaths into gasps.
One of his hands was fisted in my hair, pulling down so my neck was exposed. He licked at the dampness there, his tongue drawing sinful designs on my skin as his hips moved in a circle against my own.
He knew exactly what to do to enflame my need and slowed into a smooth rhythm when he felt me about to come before pounding into me when I relaxed. He held onto me, keeping us connected as we rolled over and I rose back on top.
“Fuck. Yes,” he said as I moved my hips in my own circular tempo.
I moved faster, raising my arms and thrusting my fingers into my hair. I tangled the strands on top of my head and held them there as I danced. My breasts rose as I stretched, tightening my stomach and curving my back.
I felt like a goddess. I felt unstoppable, beautiful. I felt pure, untainted dominance.
His hands slammed onto my hips and he pushed his up, hitting me deep in the core.
I cried out with him as we both lost control. Tremors curled from my center, crashed into my chest, and then speared down my legs. The pleasure rocketed me forward until I was nothing but a slack, boneless body on top of him. I exhaled, blowing heat across his shoulder and into his neck.
“Jesus,” he said. “We should get you drunk more often.”
“I should drag you out to bars more often.”
“Funny girl,” he said before sliding out from underneath me and kissing me. I pulled his tongue into my mouth and sucked it deeper, savoring the groan that followed.
“All right, all right.” He said, drawing back. “I have to sleep.”
My lips drew up into a cocky smile before I turned my back to him. “Go Giants,” I said.
He dragged me closer so he was cradling my body with his own and resting his hand against my ribs. “You are impossible.”
“I win.”
His answering laughter followed me into slumber.
SNAPPED: Part 1 Page 12