And if it didn’t, it certainly did now. Dammit.
“Th-this is my work, Chance.” I tripped over my words, glancing at the door. “We need to stop. I have to go.”
The pad of his thumb teased me, rubbing over the skin along the side of my jaw.
“Tell me you want me and I’ll make you come before you can count back from five.”
Double dammit. If there was one thing that Chance was proud of even more so than his snowboarding skills, it was of how he was always able to string my body up like a fucking tightrope and walk right over me.
Then, Betty’s words came back to me. Chance wanted this; he wanted to touch me. He wanted to give me this just as much as I wanted it.
And if I was going to have to give up something to get it, so would he.
“Tell me you were jealous of Kyle,” I whispered, licking my lips, “and I’ll let you.”
Blue ice fractured in his eyes, cold and hard. I pushed back against his limits—at his idea of how this was going to go. But I always had. And it was why he wanted me.
“I was jealous of Kyle,” he ground out, his thumb pulling my chin down, opening my mouth so my next words could escape unencumbered.
“I want you.” The truth came out as a desperate rush from my mouth.
His lips swallowed mine, his tongue plunging into my mouth, licking the roof, my teeth, and finally my tongue. The second that I gave in, the wave of shameless need crashed over me and I begged to be drenched. My hands moved from the wall to the firmness of his shoulders—still warm from the water in the pool.
The drawstring of my scrubs was ripped undone, his large hand worming underneath the waistband. My hips jerked forward as soon as I felt the tips of his fingers beneath my underwear.
Tearing his mouth from mine, he swore. “What the fuck are you wearing?”
I whimpered as his hand struggled for a millisecond too long to fit inside my panties. “Underwear.”
“Wear them again and you’ll fucking regret it.”
And then, I saw stars in those ice-blue eyes as his fingers found what they were looking for, slipping into my sex and pinching my clit.
It had been a while since someone, besides myself, had touched there. I’d chalked it up to being busy. Another lie.
My hot pink nails dug into his skin—adding to the tantric tattoos that scored his flesh—as his fingers slid through my desire.
“Five.” His lips touched mine again—not as a kiss, but as a brand. “Frost might have tasted your mouth, but he never had this.” His fingers swirled over and dipped into my core at the mention of Nick—and the one meaningless kiss that I’d enacted years ago.
I should be mad that he was bringing it up now with his fingers soaked in my need for him. Instead, I shivered at the confident possessiveness it fueled in his strokes. I wanted to moan. Loudly. And I wanted to tell him the truth. I wanted to scream it.
But I held it all back, only fraying my body even further as the pressure began to build.
Tighter and tighter I was being wound. Some things about our bodies had changed over the years, but not this—not the way his finger knew exactly where and how and how hard to touch to destroy me.
“Four.”
Dragging in a breath, I held onto him for dear life as his fingers slipped through my folds. He didn’t push inside me, only teasing me with the tip of his finger as it rubbed violently over my clit.
“I knew you’d be fucking drenched.” Did I hear him? Or did I just feel the words against my mouth? “Three.”
I stopped breathing. I didn’t need air for the next two seconds.
“Two.”
His fingers worked their dark magic over my core. Coiling me past the point where I could stay safely wound.
But instead of ‘one,’ he growled, “Mine.”
The possessively vulgar statement sent me over the edge. And I came. Hard. Moaning his name like I needed him to breathe. Like belly-flopping into a pool; the sting of my orgasm jolted through my body, seizing every muscle on impact, before it swallowed me whole.
Before I could catch my breath or float my way to the surface, his hand slipped out of my pants. It’s sudden absence was a rude awakening.
Pool. Work. Client. Boss.
“Five seconds, J-bird, because your pussy belongs to me.” He pulled his middle finger into his mouth, licking every last drop of me off of him like a giant ‘fuck you’ to any thought of contradicting him.
Smirk and towel both secured on his person, he turned and made for the door, leaving me to stand there agape and collect the shredded remains of my legs so that I could move.
My mouth almost lifted into a smile—it took too many more muscles to frown.
He was the very reason I’d coined the phrase, ‘donut look.’ And my face right now was what you would see if you looked the term up in the dictionary—endorphins mixed with regret.
Chance Ryder was one hell of an asshole. And he had a damaged ego to match. But I had eyes—the only part of me not completely obliterated by his touch—that saw this asshole wasn’t immune. He wasn’t unaffected by touching me even though that’s how he’d played it off. Let’s just say he held the towel in front of him to hide more than just his bathing suit.
You may have taken the gold for giving orgasms today, Mr. Ryder, but the only thing you’re going home with is something very, very blue.
“SO, MIND TELLING ME WHAT the hell happened the other night?” Frost strolled into my room in the guest house—no knock, no warning. Typical. It was the asshole’s house and therefore, technically his prerogative, but still. I held up the towel that had been just about to fall from my waist.
I hadn’t bothered to shower at the gym, mostly because I saw Monroe eyeing me as I walked towards the lockers, waiting for me to request her presence. Except I didn’t want her. I never wanted her. But especially today, I didn’t want her touch contaminating whatever poisoned pleasure Jessa left on my skin.
So, I changed and left out the side door, driving like a fucking bat out of hell to get back to Frost’s. Thank fuck I kept a joint in the glove compartment; it held me over—calmed my raging nerves—until I made it into the shower where I jacked off like it was a fucking competition—one where I’d taken the bronze, silver, and gold.
“What do you mean?” I knew what he meant. Fucking Monroe.
And fuck this. I began to dry off, not giving a fuck as the towel no longer covered me, letting my dick hang out. Maybe that would encourage the fucker to leave.
“Well, how about the fucking fact that you tell me there’s this girl who wants to bang both of us—at the same time—and then, I’m halfway down her fucking throat and you can’t get your shit together enough to fuck the pussy that you’ve been exercising all week?” His tone wasn’t angry. It was entertained—which made it all the worse.
“What? Couldn’t make her come without me?” I stood holding the towel in my hand.
“That is not the fucking problem.” His eyes glinted as he took another sip of… coconut water? It was after three pm; that bottle should have an alcohol content to it. “The problem is that goddamn pink-haired poison; it’s like you get within five fucking feet of her and all of a sudden your dick won’t work for anyone else. Don’t think I don’t know that that is why we went to that stupid band shit show the other night. Or why you decided to leave like they’d just set the building on fire when you realized that she was there to see Mr. Rockstar.”
“Watch it, Frost.” I didn’t give a shit that he was right; my tone was still deadly.
He stalked towards me, stopped just a few inches from my face, those creepy-ass pale blue eyes eating through mine. And then he smirked. “I’m not the one tripping over my dick to get back with the girl who, oh, that’s right, kissed me while she was still dating you. Watch yourself, Pride.” He made for the door again having made his point.
Hand on the doorframe, he paused, looking back with that same entertained smile on his face. “FYI, by
the time I was done with her, that chick couldn’t even remember your name.”
He pulled his phone from his pocket as he spoke and as soon as he saw the caller-ID, that smile on his face splintered into a seriousness that I’d rarely ever seen—which meant that it had something to do with Lila. He didn’t look at me again as he answered harshly, slamming the door behind him.
My jaw clenched. That was fucking Frost—he liked to watch quietly from the dark shadows. And maybe he was pissed that I’d bailed on him with the threesome with Monroe. Or maybe he was more pissed that I’d bailed on him for Jessa—the girl who’d almost ruined our friendship.
It was probably the latter by the way Monroe been swallowing his dick, her thick black mascara streaming down her face as she begged for more.
My phone began buzzing. Digging in my gym bag, I saw my twin’s name on the screen.
Sorry, Lil. Not now.
I didn’t know what the fuck happened the other night which made me all the more pissed off. One minute, I was rolling on a condom about to fuck Monroe like I swore I would for the past few weeks. The next, the sight of her bent over, Frost pounding into her mouth, was no longer appealing. My desire deflated faster than a football in the hands of Tom-fucking-Brady. So, I left before I ended up in the center of my own deflate-gate.
And it was all Jessa’s fucking fault.
I yanked open the bottle of whiskey that was sitting on the edge of the dresser in the master bedroom of Frost’s guest house, chugging down enough healthy sips that would bring tears to the eyes of most.
My phone started buzzing again.
“What?” I snapped.
“Seriously?” I deserved every ounce of sass in Channing’s voice.
“Sorry.”
“No fucking shit. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” Maybe one more sip would have me believe that, too. “Rough day.”
“How’s PT?” Dammit. How did she know? Ally. Jessa. My brain connected the dots.
“Enlightening,” I rasped. “What’s up?”
“Can you come over to Wyatt’s? We want to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“Seriously, Chance? I know you don’t have plans. And if you did, they wouldn’t be until later. Stop bitching. Come over. There will be food.” Click.
If there was one thing my twin knew, it was how to handle me. Especially when I was being a dick. I should be happy with how things progressed today with Jessa. Instead, I’d left myself with an itch only she could scratch. And that, combined with Frost’s annoyingly opportunistic reminder that I could be fucking myself bigtime with my desire for her—and for revenge—made me into a larger, crankier ass than I normally was.
Good fucking thing I loved my sisters with every miserable cell in my body. Not that I was worth much at the moment, but if I was worth anything, it would be because of my love for them. I was just shitty at showing it right now.
“Ryder!” Wyatt Olsen’s gold-medal-winning grin greeted me when he opened the door. Fucking fantastic. Just what I needed, a reminder of all the things I would never accomplish.
“Olsen.” I nodded and strolled into his and my sister’s half-a-million-dollar condo that they were renting.
I made it halfway through their living room and towards where the smell of food was coming from before Channing appeared from the kitchen. “Chance!”
She threw her arms around me like she hadn’t seen me in weeks, instead of at their engagement party… Shit, had it really been that long?
I squeezed her tightly and stepped back, pretending not to notice the sympathy in her eyes that said she still wished I was the brother she could look up to.
Sorry, Lil. I don’t think I’m ever getting back on that pedestal.
“What’s cookin’?”
She grinned. “We’re just waiting for the pizza man to get here.”
“I see you’re still not cooking,” I teased.
She stuck her tongue out at me. “I may have a ring on my finger, but at the risk of him still being able to back out of the deal, I’m holding off any and all cooking attempts until after the wedding; he doesn’t know I have any faults yet.”
I let out a bark of laughter only to realize that Wyatt had done the same.
“Hey!” Channing pouted. I don’t think I’d ever seen my sister pout before. What had Olsen done to her? I watched the famous snowboarder walk around the island and wrap his arms around my sister, pulling her back against him to whisper in her ear, turning her cheeks red.
Fuck. “Are you trying to ruin my appetite?”
Lil rolled her eyes. “Oh please. Don’t even get me started on all of the things that I’ve had to see you do over the past… lifetime.”
“Chance, can I give you a tour?” Wyatt interjected before our sibling banter got out of control.
I nodded, holding my twin’s eyes. We would finish our little discussion later.
There wasn’t much to fucking see—it was a condo. I nodded politely to my future brother-in-law as he said something about the hardwood in the living room, following as he led us towards the stairs.
“How’s physical therapy going?” He and my sister were like a broken record with this shit.
“Fine.”
“Really? I fucking hated PT. Turned me into the most miserable asshole this side of the continental divide.”
“Yeah, it sucks.”
We’d stopped in the hallway upstairs and I realized that this was never about the fucking tour of their condo.
“Now that Channing and I are back, I wanted to talk to you because we’ve broken ground on the school.”
“Yeah? Need someone to help you decorate?” And even that I probably wasn’t good for anyway.
“I think your sister,” I raised my eyebrow, “your other sister has that under control.” Ally. Right. “I want you to come teach.”
“Yeah? So you said before. But I’m a lousy teacher.” I laughed. “And probably an even fucking lousier rider now.”
“Bullshit.” Fuck you, Wyatt-fucking-Olsen. “So, you broke your fucking knee. You can still ride once you’re done with PT. I don’t want to hear that shit. You’re a good enough rider to know that you aren’t done with the mountain—not by a long shot.”
“I’m done with competing.”
The sound of the front door opening and then closing drew our attention for a second as Channing presumably grabbed the pizza from the delivery man.
“So what? So am I,” Wyatt continued.
“By choice,” I growled. I was hungry. This was not a good conversation to have while I was hungry.
“Not quite, my friend,” he smirked wryly. “Thing is, I’ve been in your shoes and I’ve also been in the shoes of someone who has won all those competitions. If I had this opportunity—to really make a difference for other people and not just myself—I would have taken it.”
“Don’t you have someone else who can do it? What about Channing?” I asked, not wanting any part of that conversation.
“She can’t teach everyone. Plus, you were on track to be the best, probably better than me but don’t tell your sister that… Shit.”
Wyatt rubbed his temples while I just waited, wondering if he was going to dig himself into a bigger hole.
I’d disliked the guy the second that I found out my sister was… with him. I’d only marginally come around to the idea when I saw how happy he made her—and that he was going to marry her whether I liked it or not. Well… that and the fact that my other candidate for brother-in-law was Emmett. Fucking King and my little sister. At which point, Wyatt Olsen found himself the lucky winner of the lesser-of-two-evils award—an award that he was about to lose if he didn’t tread very carefully about what he said next.
Mr. Always-Wins ran his hand through his hair before continuing. “Look, I don’t know you that well yet, Chance, but I want to because you’re her twin; you and I would both die for her. So, I didn’t say that to rub salt in your wound but beca
use from what I do know, Chance, you’re cutting off your nose to spite your face. You didn’t lose a fucking leg. So, get your shit together and come work with us.”
Yeah, well, when competing was the only leg I had to stand on, it sure fucking felt like it.
My cheek twitched. I didn’t know what to say. I was honestly surprised that this was coming from him of all people.
“And Channing didn’t want to ask me?”
“I did.” Wyatt spun and we both stared as my twin appeared in the hallway. “Pizza is here.” She turned and left us again at which point, Wyatt gave me the Sparknotes version of the rest of the tour before we made our way back downstairs.
We were all hungry, closing in on the pizza boxes like vultures. At least, Channing and I were—both of us inheriting the mutual ‘hangry’ gene; we dove into the pepperoni pie while Wyatt calmly took a slice of the plain cheese, eating half of it before continuing our conversation
“I told her that I wanted to be the one to ask you—and don’t worry, she gave me shit for it.” I saw my sister glare lovingly at him, annoyed at the twinge I felt wishing Jessa’s glares at me looked like that. No, she looked at me like I’d fucking stuck gum in her hair or spilled beer on her favorite brightly-colored outfit; she glared at me like I was the irremovable stain on her past except—I shifted in my seat—except when I touched her. Then she glared at me because I set her body on fire.
“Even though everything I do is with her… for her,” Ugh, fucking gross blubbering, “the school is technically mine and I wanted to be the one to officially offer you the position as the head of our snowboarding department.”
“Seriously?” I hadn’t even been on the mountain since I fell and they wanted me to head up the whole fucking department? “Sorry, going to have to turn you down right now.” I sat back having eaten enough to speak without being a full-fledged ass. “I haven’t been on the mountain for six months. And I’m shit at teaching people anything—Lil, tell him.”
“I mean, you taught me…“ she mumbled.
“Right, but you’re my sister. What about Frost?”
Enjoy the Ride (Winter Games Book 3) Page 10