What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 3)

by Lauren Hawkeye

  To my surprise, it was. We danced to that song, and to the next one, and the one after that. Tripp and Georgeanne joined us, and as long as Alex was with me, I wasn’t afraid.

  We danced until I was out of breath and sweat slicked my skin. Along the way I drank another two glasses of the sweet sparkling wine, not enough to get drunk, but enough to make me relax.

  When I finally collapsed against Alex at the start of the next slow song, I realized that it was the first time in years that I’d been able to have fun like I was… well, like I was a twenty-one year old girl with her life ahead of her.

  “I love seeing you like that.” Alex’s voice was husky. I felt his fingers toying with the silk that met the naked skin of my back. He slipped one finger inside and stroked over the hot, tight skin that he found there.

  Though only moments before I’d had nothing on my mind but fun, I was instantly, insanely aroused.

  “Like what?” My lids were at half mast when I looked up at him. God, but he was beautiful.

  “When you let go.”

  The hand not teasing beneath the silk slid over my hip, grazed the curve of my ass. Heat and wet rushed to the space between my legs.

  I wanted him.

  Why couldn’t I have him?

  “Do you want to get out of here?” He looked at me like I was the only woman in the world.

  Unable to find the words, I nodded. My heart hammered viciously against my ribcage as I realized what my nod meant.

  Alex’s fingers twined with mine as he guided me off the dance floor. Neither Tripp nor Georgeanne seemed to notice as we left, they were so wrapped up in each other. Alex was so intent on me that he no longer seemed to care what was going on between them.

  The hall outside the room where the party was being held was empty, and the sound of my high heels echoed loudly as I walked.

  Then I found myself in Alex’s arms, my back to the wall, the chill of the stone pulling at the naked skin of my back.

  His lips were on mine, and he was kissing me as if he never wanted to stop.

  I kissed him back, twining my arms around him, not caring that anyone who walked into the hall would see us. I was too far gone for that.

  If we’d been alone… if we’d been alone I would have let him take me all the way. But we weren’t, so I settled for what we could do.

  “Serena.” Alex’s voice was a rasp as his hand found my breast. The strapless bra that I wore didn’t offer much in the way of support and I felt his touch as much as I would have if he was caressing my naked flesh.

  I arched into him, rocking my pelvis against his, desperate for more.

  Desperate for it all.

  He worked his knee between my legs, then swallowed my gasp when he braced his leg so that I rode his thigh. I had the friction of his leg riding between my thighs, I could feel need tightening inside of me, and then a sensation unlike anything I’d ever felt rolled through me, making me gasp with pleasure.

  I came moaning his name, the sound swallowed by the cavernous, empty hall. He seemed to savour my reaction to his touch, whispering my name over and over as he buried his face in my hair.

  I sagged into him as the last ripples of pleasure melted through my flesh.

  “Serena,” He said again, pressing a kiss to the hollow of my throat.

  My surroundings began to filter back in and as they did, I found myself stiffening, despite… because… I’d so badly wanted what had just happened.

  What kind of girl was I to lose control like that in a public place, with a boy I’d known for only a few weeks?

  I was a dirty girl, just like Felicity had told me over and over again, when I’d found solace in the arms of any boy who would have me.

  Mother was always right.

  “Serena!”

  The brick of the building scraped the naked skin of my back as I sagged against it, abrading the skin.

  I didn’t care. Clenching fists that were damp with sweat in the skirt of my dress, I gulped great mouthfuls of air, and still couldn’t seem to catch my breath.

  “Serena.” Alex appeared around the corner, his dark hair standing on end. I eyed him warily, clutching a hand to my throat, my skin flushing the red of mortification.

  It wasn’t his fault I’d freaked out, so there was no point in being mad at him. But I didn’t want him there because it hurt to look at him, knowing that no way was he going to stick around after the stunt I’d just pulled.

  Silently he made his way to where I stood a quivering, shaking mess. He handed me a bottle of water, and though I hesitated, I took it, my fingertips smudging the condensation that frosted the plastic.

  The water was wet and cool on my dry throat, but did nothing to wash away the sense of shame.

  I waited for him to question why I’d ran, or to ask what was wrong with me. Instead he leaned back against the wall beside me, hands in his pockets casually, seemingly content to just be with me until I got a grip on myself.

  He was too good to be true. Clearly he didn’t understand the depth of what was wrong with me.

  “What kind of girl am I, to lose control like that?” My words were strained as finally I turned and looked up at him. My heart was pounding so fast that I felt like I might explode.

  His expression darkened, and I thought, this is it. He’s done.

  Instead he reached out to cup my cheek, his thumb grazing my cheekbone. His expression was serious, and his words were fierce.

  “Liking what we did is not wrong.” I just stared. I didn’t feel capable of responding.

  He didn’t know. He couldn’t understand how warped my view of sex was.

  “But I shouldn’t have pushed you. I should have known you weren’t ready. It’s my fault.” His fingers tightened momentarily on my skin, as if a surge of feeling that he couldn’t control had passed through him.

  “No.” My voice sounded like shards of glass had ripped through it. “No. I… I wanted it.”

  I wanted to bury my face in my hands—how could I explain?

  “I just… I’ve never…” A shudder worked through me. “I’ve never felt… like that. I wasn’t expecting it.”

  “I see.” The tone in his voice was unidentifiable. I could feel his eyes on me, assessing me, even as I stared down at the sparkles on my borrowed shoes.

  I’d never had an orgasm before, not even by myself. I’d never wanted to like sex, not with the boys I’d used to fill me up, certainly not with him.

  He had told me that he would make me like it, over and over again. I’d been determined to prove him wrong, even years later.

  But Alex changed everything. I opened my mouth, wishing I could explain all of this to him. But someone, more than ever before, I didn’t want to scare away with my demons.

  I wanted him to stay.

  “Have you ever boxed?” He asked abruptly. Startled by the seemingly random question, I looked into his face. I thought I detected banked rage in those night dark eyes, but I didn’t think it was directed at me.

  “Boxed? Like… hitting a punching bag?” My blunt description startled a laugh out of him, and he scrubbed his hands over his face before settling them on me again.

  “Yeah, I guess that’s the long and short of it. Put on padded gloves and beat the hell out of a punching bag.” He smiled, showing a boy’s appreciation for the sport. “Tripp got me into it when I… when we met. I have a bag set up in my spare room. I’ll show you how sometime.”

  I couldn’t believe that, even after everything, he still wasn’t running. I was too tired to question why. I took another sip from the water bottle, then handed it back to him.

  “I’d like that.” Moments before I leaned back against the cold brick again, I felt him drape something heavy—his suit jacket—around my shoulders.

  “Serena?”

  “Hmm.” I closed my eyes and unashamedly inhaled his scent, which clung to the smooth fabric.

  “You didn’t lose control.”

  Warily, I opened my
eyes, and tilted my head so that I could see his face.

  The emotion that I saw there made my heart skip. The words that followed were my undoing.

  “You didn’t lose control. You just gave it to me for a little while.”

  Chapter Eight

  I sat on my bed the next morning, staring at toes that were still painted with sparkly polish. I wiggled them, enjoying the sensation of the rough carpet on the skin.

  I’d just gotten home, and I was happier than I’d ever been.

  Alex had coaxed me into returning to the dance after my meltdown. We’d stayed on the dance floor with Tripp and Georgeanne until the party ended, and I’d let go—of everything this time—and had the time of my life.

  Still worried about me, Alex had talked me into a sleepover at his apartment. I’d been taken aback when, after I’d dressed in a pair of his sweatpants and one of his T-shirts, he’d wrapped me in his arms and gone straight to sleep.

  No hands wandered to my breasts, no touches played between my legs. At first I couldn’t sleep, unused to being held so tightly while drifting off to slumber, but finally…

  Finally I’d relaxed. His strong arms around me felt… good. Warm.

  Safe.

  When I’d left that morning, he’d finally kissed me again, the first one since I’d freaked out the night before. The way his lips had slanted over mine, and the way his arms had wrapped around my waist made my toes curl.

  It was his way, I knew, of announcing that he was still very much attracted to me, despite everything.

  I was amazed. And happy.

  I couldn’t keep the goofy grin off of my face when the dorm room door banged open and Kaylee flew through. I wanted to tell her, I realized. I wanted to talk to her about Alex, the way she talked to me.

  Milliseconds after I opened my mouth to do just that, I noted the panicked expression on her face and snapped my lips shut.

  “What’s wrong?” I jolted, then stood as she slammed the door shut behind us. She faced me, her hands tugging distractedly on her ponytail.

  “Your mom’s here.” Her words were like a blow to my gut. My mouth fell open, and my mind rejected the notion.

  My mom had only visited me at school once before, which was when Kaylee had met her.

  It hadn’t ended well.

  “Are you sure?” I clenched my hands into fists.

  “Like, ninety-nine percent.” Kaylee bobbed her head nervously. “She—aah—made quite an impression last time she was here.”

  That was putting it nicely. The last time Felicity had visited, Kaylee had barely turned away before my mother had commented on my best friend’s ‘sexual appetite’, simply because Kaylee had mentioned in passing that she was going on dates—first dates—with two different boys that weekend.

  She’d been hurt, I knew, though she’d never have told me so.

  “Is she alone?” Frantically, I began to strip off the dress that Kaylee had loaned me, which I had pulled on when Alex had driven me back to campus. Kaylee grabbed a pair of jeans and one of my usual tank tops and flannel shirts from my closet and tossed them at me.

  “As far as I know.”

  I hissed a breath out through my teeth as I hitched the jeans up over my hips. Kaylee couldn’t have known how important it was for me to know that.

  “Serena.”

  I was feeling so frantic as I tugged my tank top over my head, it took a moment for me to register the horror in Kaylee’s voice. Furrowing my brow, I followed her stare down.

  She was staring at the silver scars that striped my upper arms. I’d always made sure to confine my cuts there, because it was easy for me to hide them.

  “Oh.” I stared back at her. I didn’t know what to say.

  The knock I’d been waiting for sounded. I snapped my lips shut, tore my gaze from Kaylee’s, and slid into my flannel shirt. I buttoned it up to the top with fingers that were suddenly clumsy.

  Before I reached for the door, I pulled the elastic band from my hair, loosening my ponytail so that my hair fell down around my face.

  I didn’t want to open that door.

  She was my mother. I didn’t have a choice.

  Slowly, dread making my fingers thick and stupid, I opened the heavy door to the room I shared with Kaylee. She had been right—it was my mother.

  “Serena.” Felicity looked me up and down quickly, and when she sniffed I knew I’d been found wanting. “I came to take you to lunch.”

  My fingers clutched at the top button of my shirt. It was on the tip of my tongue to refuse, but I still clung to the wild hope that Felicity might come to her senses, might realize I’d been telling the truth all along.

  “All right.” Mechanically, I turned. My bank card, identification and a handful of bills lay on my bedside table; I shoved them in the pocket of my jeans.

  “Hi, Mrs. Baker.” Kaylee would have sounded friendly enough to anyone who didn’t know her; as close as I’d been to her the last two years, I could hear the hint of stiffness in her voice. “Nice to see you again.”

  I wrinkled my nose. I hated hearing the woman who had given birth to me addressed by Bob’s last name. I shouldn’t have cared, really—it was a tiny detail in the massive mess that was my life.

  Felicity didn’t answer, instead sniffing to show her disdain. When I turned around again, I saw that her gaze had fallen on Alex’s suit jacket, which I’d worn home and now lay at the foot of my bed.

  My face flamed, and though I read the aggressive challenge in her eyes, I pressed my lips together.

  No way was I telling this woman about Alex. He was too new… too special.

  I wasn’t going to taint what I had with him with the darkness that was my family.

  “I’m ready.”

  Felicity gestured at the door with a jerk of her head, then sailed out herself. I followed her trim, black clad figure with my eyes before glancing back at Kaylee.

  She collapsed onto her bed helplessly. I nodded, feeling halfway dead inside, before following Felicity out of the room.

  She was waiting for me in the hall.

  “I saw a coffee shop in the next building. Let’s go there.” Her voice was stiff. I shook my head vehemently before I could even think about it.

  “No.” That coffee shop was Daily Grind, where I had gone with Alex the day we’d met. No way was I going there with Felicity.

  She raised her eyebrows at me, not at all impressed.

  “Their stuff is lousy.” I looked down at my feet, clad in flip flops that I’d slid into at the last minute. The glitter of my nail polish seemed to wink at me, a reminder of last night and how happy I’d been.

  Stupid as that little detail was, it bolstered my courage.

  “There’s a little cafe right around the corner, Felicity. It’s simple, but decent. Let’s go there.” My voice was tight. After a moment in which she looked at me with narrow eyes—probably because she wasn’t used to me taking control—Felicity nodded once, curtly.

  “All right.” She resumed her brisk walk, leaving me to follow behind like a clumsy puppy out of my dorm building and all the way to the cafe.

  “Here?” She barely repressed the curl of her lip as she looked up at the cafe sign, which was only slightly faded by the sun.

  Kaylee and I came here regularly. The food was cheap, but good, and the coffee was strong.

  “It’s fine, Felicity.” I snapped as I stalked ahead of her, the rubber of my flip flops slapping against the soles of my feet. The bells on the glass door jingled as I pushed through, and though I kinda wanted to slam it in her face, I held it open long enough for her to catch.

  I didn’t bother to ask where she wanted to sit. For once, I found myself past the need for her approval. I selected a booth at random and slid into it.

  When she joined me, I saw a flicker of surprise on her face. I supposed I should have felt vindicated, that I could affect her in some way, but instead I felt weary.

  I had spent so long waiting for some kind
of empathy from this woman, I couldn’t find it in me to care.

  A waitress brought us glasses of iced water, and I sipped at mine while Felicity ordered a coffee. When the waitress left and I could feel Felicity’s eyes on me, judging me, I switched from drinking my water to playing with the paper packets of sweetener that sat in the middle of the table.

  I didn’t speak. She would—I knew—I just had to wait for it.

  “I didn’t care for how our last conversation ended.” Felicity started, her voice snippy. When I looked up I saw the disapproving set to her mouth.

  I wanted to scream. I didn’t want to be a stereotype, didn’t want to hate my mother, but every word that came out of her mouth hurt me.

  I was sick of it.

  “I didn’t either.” Instead of looking down, as I normally would, I looked right back at her, right into eyes that were the exact same color as my own, the color of ice. Her lips parted with what I imagined was a hint of surprise.

  “You’ve gotten quite the attitude lately.” She paused as the waitress brought her coffee. Pursing her lips, Felicity peeled back the lid from a tiny container of creamer with perfectly manicured mauve nails, grimacing when the cream splashed onto the table.

  I didn’t answer, my fingers instead straying the hair surrounding my face. A piece of it was lodged behind my ear, and I untucked it so that it swung in a curtain over my cheek.

  “Why don’t you ever make an effort with your appearance, Serena?” Felicity made a clucking sound, reaching across the table to tuck the tendrils behind my ear again. I flinched away from her touch, shaking the strands back into my face. “You used to be such a pretty girl.”

  I used to be innocent, too. My thoughts were a scream, but I knew better that to give them a voice.

  I’d tried that. It didn’t work.

  “Some people think I’m pretty just like this.” My words were matter of fact, but my thoughts strayed to Alex.

  The expression on his face when he first saw me in my dress last night lifted my spirits and gave me courage.

  I heard the harsh exhale of my mother’s breath. She hated it most when I was calm, reasonable. I think it made her feel like she wasn’t affecting me at all, like I wasn’t listening.