by N. Raines
No Promises. Hell, for all she knew, it was a warning: Girl, you might get laid, but don't expect anything more. Don't get too close.
All right. Fine with her.
So she'd had her V card punched. Big whoop. It had to happen sometime, and she'd already waited longer than a lot of girls did.
She wouldn't get stupid. Wouldn't make an ass of herself like she had with Cody.
Rick threaded his fingers through her hair, then grasped her around the waist to haul her on top of him. Her breasts were crushed to his chest, and his cock, wedged between them, hardened against her thighs. "Ready to go again?"
She rubbed her nose against his. No getting glum and serious. "We only had one rubber, remember?"
His forehead crinkled. "Right. Bummer." He kneaded her butt cheeks. "There's still plenty of other fun things we can do."
The naughty light in his eyes filled her with desire and a bit of fear. But— "Oh God, what time is it?"
He smirked, his hands still busy on her ass. "Time to go again."
She scrambled off him, then grabbed her bra and underpants from the floor. "Pop'll be getting home any minute now. I gotta get back before he does."
Rick lifted himself on one elbow. "Wait till he goes to sleep and sneak in."
Sam hopped on one foot as she pulled on a sock. "No. The damn stairs creak like crazy. He'll be up like a shot."
"And after me with a shotgun, probably." Rick frowned as if thinking he deserved it.
She flumped down beside him and kissed the frown away. She didn't want him feeling guilty. He'd given her an amazing night and nothing should spoil it. "No. He's not the violent type. I just don't want things getting weird between you two."
He drew his arms around her and squashed her to his chest, turning her peck on the lips to a full-fledged, panty-melting conquest of her mouth. "Stay a little longer."
The room whirled. She had to break free, though still woozy from his kiss, or she'd never get home. After stumbling to her feet, she wriggled into her jeans and T-shirt. She turned to say good-bye. Her mouth watered and her knees wobbled as he lay there, gloriously, unashamedly nude, his hand splayed on his belly and his cock semihard.
She felt a bit guilty, leaving him that way. Did that make her a tease or something? Argh, to be so disgustingly clueless about guys. "You, uh, gonna be okay?"
One eyebrow ticked up as he grinned wickedly. "What, this?" He gestured to his "little head." "Don't worry. He'll go down in a while. Maybe I'll give him a hand, rub one out while I think about you."
Sam snorted a laugh, and her face flamed. Should she be grossed out or flattered? She settled on flattered. Nice to think she'd be the object of his fantasies instead of some boobilicious movie star or booty-shaking video chick.
Everything about his pose said, Come and get it. You know you want it.
And she did. It took all her strength not to crawl across the floor to him. Get thee behind me, Satan.
"Okay, well…" Ugh. So lame. She didn't know how to say good-bye.
He saved her. "Sam."
"Uh-huh?" Her voice was a croak.
"I'll see you in the morning."
"Yes. Okay." And then what? Shoot, hadn't she just told herself she wasn't going to worry about the future? Angry at breaking her own promise, she turned away to hustle down the stairs.
Before she could descend, he spoke again. "Hey."
She turned. "Yeah?"
He lifted his head from the pillow. "When are we gonna do this again?"
She smiled, her mood lifting. "Soon, I hope."
"I'll hold you to that."
Hooray! Light with anticipation, Sam skated down the steps and across the yard to the house. Once inside, she scooped up Blackberry and danced around the kitchen to a made-up song in her head. I'm not a virgin anymore, da dum da dum dum da da dum.
The cat put up with her antics for a few moments, then hopped out of her arms. Sam wasn't offended. She sank dreamily into a chair with a smile on her lips.
Chapter Eight
In spite of Rick's promise and Sam's anticipation, two days passed without a repeat performance. For one thing, her father was always around, leaving them no opportunity to be alone. Though they spent some of their time at Shankey's making out, they could hardly make love in the junky, smelly old garage. And the truck offered no privacy. Sam grew grumpier¸ hornier, and more impatient with each passing day.
On the morning of their third day of enforced celibacy, they found a moment alone, washing the breakfast dishes when Pop went out to check the mail.
"You've got to stop looking at me like that when Pop's around." Sam took the wet plate Rick handed her and dried it, then shoved it into the cupboard with a satisfying clatter. She had to do something with her sexual frustration.
"What d'you mean?" He scrubbed a plate so hard not a molecule of food could have remained. He was frustrated too.
"You know." She bumped him with her hip. "Like you want to do me right on the table. Stop it. My father's not dumb, you know."
"Well, you stop looking at me like you want to rip my clothes off." His lips curled in a smirk.
"I do not!" She thrust her shoulders back indignantly, then a moment later burst into laughter. Yeah, that was exactly what she wanted to do to him. "Well, quit being so hot, then."
He lifted one eyebrow. "Maybe we don't have to wait long. Isn't tonight your dad's poker night?"
Sam frowned. "Yeah, but it got canceled. They meet at Lenny's house. And he's got some kind of bug."
"Crap." Rick's shoulders slumped.
"Yeah." Sam dried the last plate, shoved it into the cupboard, and gave the cabinet door a resounding thump. She glanced out the window. Pop was on the sidewalk, talking to Mrs. Rooney, their neighbor from down the street.
A lightbulb went on in Sam's head. She lowered her voice, though there was no way her father could possibly hear. "I'll wait till he's asleep tonight, then sneak over to your place."
Rick raised an eyebrow. "What about the creaky stair?"
"The hell with it. He snores so loud he probably won't even hear it." Sam was grasping at straws, but it wasn't fair that she'd waited so long to lose her virginity only to have to wait again for round two.
He shook his head. "Nah. We're not gonna do that. It just doesn't feel respectful."
That again. Sam wished that he were slightly less honorable. But then again, she wouldn't be falling for him if he were.
Whoa. Wait a minute. What was that?
Oh God. It was true. She was falling in love with Rick.
How stupid. What a freaking cliché. The virgin who fell in love with the first guy she slept with. The girl who confused awesome sex for true love.
Rick took the dish towel from her nerveless fingers and hung it on the rack. He sneaked a quick look out the window, then without warning pulled her close for a kiss.
It was not some little close-lipped buss on the mouth he snatched in fear of being interrupted. No. He dragged his big hands down her back and grabbed her ass, lifted up against his pelvis, rocking his hips. A burst of heat jolted through her as she connected with his hardening cock. He claimed her mouth in hot, hard, breath-stealing kiss, one meant to turn her inside out, one that said, You're mine.
When he let her go, her head was reeling. Oh man. Was she ever screwed.
Pop walked in with a handful of mail. "Something for you, Sammy." Thankfully, he was too busy riffling through the letters to notice her flushed cheeks and glassy eyes or the smug little grin on Rick's face.
Pop handed her a square envelope with her name and address written in fancy script. When she could see straight, she opened it and frowned.
"Something wrong?" Rick asked.
"No, nothing. It's an invitation to a party."
"Really. From the look on your face, I thought it was a traffic ticket."
She gave a small laugh. "No. It's a graduation party. For, uh, for Morgan." She tensed, remembering how he'd reacted to Morgan at the
party. But he'd been drinking, and he hadn't said anything negative about her since then.
Rick's smug expression flattened. "Ah. Britt's girlfriend."
"That's right." Sam shifted nervously, ready to defend her cousin and friend if necessary. She relaxed when Rick made no further comment. Maybe he'd made peace with Britt and Morgan's relationship and put the past where it belonged.
"So why you acting like it's an invitation to a funeral instead of a party?"
"Oh, it's at some fancy country club." She sighed and set the card on the counter. "I'll have to get dressed to impress; it's not my thing."
"Oh. So it's not some backyard affair with beer and hot dogs." He shrugged. "Well, if it's not your thing, just refuse."
"Nah. I promised Britt I'd hang with her."
"She'll have Morgan, though. Right?" His eyebrows lifted. "Or is there trouble in paradise?"
Was that what he was hoping for? Was he still hung up on Britt? "No." Sam flushed. She didn't want to mention that Morgan's parents weren't too keen on their daughter being with Britt. "Nothing like that."
He gazed at her thoughtfully. "You're always wearing those scrubs with the dancing dogs and cats, or jeans and a T-shirt. I've never seen you dressed up."
"Well, you've never seen me in a Catholic school uniform, either. 'Cause I was in sixth grade when I wore it. I wear scrubs for work, and I'm sure not gonna dress up just to hang around the house."
Rick's eyes lit up. "You used to wear a uniform? With one of those little pleated skirts? Bet you were cute."
She glanced quickly at her father, who was too busy grumbling about some bills to register their conversation. Then she glared a warning at Rick. Don't go there. "No. I had bony knees."
He was having too much fun busting her chops. "Do you own any dresses?"
She bristled. "Of course I do. I have two dresses." She winced as soon as the words were out of her mouth.
"Two dresses? Wow, that many? I'm impressed." Laughter danced in his eyes.
Yeah, she'd walked right into that one. "Oh, shut up."
Pop drew his wallet out. "I want you to get a real pretty dress for that party, Sammy." He pulled out several bills and handed them to her. And she'd thought he hadn't been listening.
She tried to hand him back the cash. "Pop, you don't need to. I've got my own money."
"No, you take it," her father insisted, waving the money away. "I want my girl to shine. You show those country club snobs we're just as good as they are."
She hesitated, then folded the b ills and stuffed them into the pocket of her jeans. "All right. Thanks." No point explaining it would take more than a fancy dress to put her on a level playing field with the country club fashionistas.
Perhaps her doubts showed in her face, because her father spoke up. "You're a beautiful girl, Sammy. God bless you, sometimes I forget how much you look like your mother."
Her heart gave a bump. Yes, her mother had been beautiful. It touched Sam to recall that now, to be reminded how much she resembled her mom.
Rick spoke up too. "You got nothing to worry about, Sam. You'll hold your own with those divas, no problem. They'll be jealous as hell when they get a look at you."
Well, that was overstating it. All the same, gratitude welled in her chest. Pop, being her father, was basically obligated to think his daughter was pretty. But Rick didn't have to say anything he didn't mean.
She gave him a tender look, and the heat in his eyes told her more than he could speak in words, with her father sitting right there. An answering heat warmed her belly, creeping into her chest and throat. It moved in the other direction too.
She had to look away.
Oh yeah, she was screwed, all right.
****
Later that morning, Rick and Jay tinkered with Ellie May in the garage. When Rick went into the kitchen to grab them a couple of sodas, he was surprised to find Britt there, getting a glass of water from the faucet.
"Oh, uh, hi. Hey." He glanced at the door behind him. No way to escape without being obvious. "Where's Sam?"
"She just went upstairs to get her purse. We're going shopping today."
"Right. For that graduation thing." He leaned awkwardly against the counter. "Cool."
Britt turned off the water and leaned against the sink. If he hadn't been so uncomfortable, he'd have found it comical, the way they were posed almost like bookends.
"So." She eyed him coolly. "Haven't had a chance to talk to you since the party."
"Yeah, well. I know I wasn't much of a guest, hanging out on the porch, hogging up your beer. Sorry about that."
"I was worried. I texted you a few times, thought maybe you'd want to talk. But you never answered."
Jesus, why did women always want to talk? Yeah, he'd deleted her texts without replying, and maybe it was kind of dickish of him. But what did they have to say to each other anymore? They'd been close once, but now they were strangers.
When he didn't answer, didn't even bother to apologize, Britt's expression grew chillier. "It was a surprise to hear that you'd moved in with Sam and Uncle Jay."
He didn't know why her comment should make him bristle, but it did. "Yeah? You mean kinda like how it was a surprise to find out you're a lesbian?"
Britt's eyes widened, then narrowed as her mouth firmed. "Is that what this is about?"
Rick's face grew hot. He and Britt hadn't been an item since high school. Shit, it made no difference to him who she was with, male or female. He wasn't some redneck who hated gays. But they'd been close back in the day. He'd cared about her and thought she'd cared too. Had she just been faking? It stung to think it might have all been an act on her part. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, are you using Sam to get back at me for some reason?"
His lip curled in derision. "Why would I want to get back at you?"
She placed the glass on the counter. "I don't know. You tell me. Could it have anything to do with the fact that I broke up with you senior year, right before graduation?"
That hit him like a slap in the face. And all these years later, he remembered how her dumping him right before graduation had been a real gut punch. He hadn't seen it coming. Okay, it wasn't like he'd been planning to propose or some shit. Had it only been because her announcement was so sudden? Or had his pride been hurt because he'd wanted to be the one to break it off?
The question stumped him, and before he could respond, Britt went on. "Sam's family, and I look out for her."
He almost smiled, remembering how Sam had stood up for her cousin the night of Britt's party. Now here was Britt, doing the same for Sam. These girls had each other's backs.
"What's more, she's a good person," Britt said. "And she's been through a lot."
"I know what she's been through, with her dad and all. I know how good she is."
"She likes to make out that she's strong and got it all under control, but—"
"She is strong," Rick said. Nobody would convince him otherwise.
"I know. But she has a soft heart."
He shifted, resentment flaring. "You can't tell me anything about Sam that I don't already know."
Britt's expression turned flinty. "Just don't hurt her."
A spark of anger shot through him. He gave Britt a nasty smirk. "Or what? You gonna send your girlfriend to beat me up?" Yeah, he was being a dick, but he didn't appreciate being cornered and lectured when he'd done nothing wrong. Nothing Sam didn't want, anyway. Why the hell would Britt think he'd want to hurt her?
Britt leaned toward him, quivering with anger. "No. I'm coming after you with a baseball bat. How's that?"
He didn't doubt it. In spite of her perfect makeup and polished nails, Britt was a badass.
"Got my stuff." Sam stood in the doorway, hitching the strap of her purse over her shoulder. Her smile faded as she glanced curiously from her cousin to Rick. "What's up?"
Britt answered smoothly, slicker than shit. "I was just telling Rick how we're going to buy out the s
tores and bring you back the hottest dress we can find." She picked up her glass, took a sip.
"Yeah." The devil inside him prodded him to add, "I want a private fashion show when you get back, so I can see for myself."
Much to his satisfaction, Britt choked on her drink. Sam, red-faced, gave him a glare.
When her coughing subsided, Britt dumped the rest of the glass into the sink. "We've got to go. Lots of shopping to do."
****
Sam and Britt's excellent adventure turned into an all-day shopping spree. Shopping spree. Sam never would have imagined herself doing such a thing, much less enjoying it, but spending the afternoon with her cousin had been a blast. By the time they were back home, Sam's feet were sore and her lap overflowed with bags from Barnaby's and half a dozen other upscale stores.
Britt rummaged through her big slouchy purse and pulled a small shopping bag from it. "Before I forget. Here. For you."
"What is it?"
"Makeup. We found you the perfect dress. You need the perfect face to go with it."
"You mean it's not perfect already?" Sam peered at the collection of compacts, tubes, and jars. "I don't even know what some of this stuff is."
"Don't worry," her cousin replied airily. "I do."
"This is expensive, Britt. I could have gotten makeup from the drugstore."
Britt shuddered in mock horror. "Bite your tongue. If you want to look your best, you need the best materials. Anyway, I used my employee discount."
"Well, you're the beauty consultant."
Britt gave a tired laugh. "Yeah. Too bad I'm nothing but a lowly sales clerk to Morgan's mom and dad. They're cool with their brilliant, college-educated daughter being a lesbian. They just don't like the thought of her dating some chick who works at Barnaby's cosmetics counter."
That wasn't fair. Britt worked at Barnaby's, sure, but also worked nights and weekends at a spa. She might not have gone to college, but she was a licensed cosmetologist and planned to open her own business when she had enough experience. She was no slouch and no dummy, either.
"They sound like a couple of snobs. They ought to be glad their daughter has a smart, awesome girlfriend like you."