by Shae Ross
“It’s all right, Ryan.”
He’s starting to console me, but there’s more to tell and I have to keep going before I lose my nerve. Ugh. My teeth tear at the inside of my bottom lip while Jett’s gaze moves rapidly over me.
“Coming up to see Phil wasn’t the only surprise I had for him that night.” Gulp. I had on a trench coat…” I look him in the eyes, my voice full of regret, “and nothing else.”
Understanding floods his expression. I shake my head and continue, “Somewhere between fighting with Phil and landing on my ass in the snow…”
“Did he hit you?” His whole body stiffens, and I see the tense look on his face.
“We were such a tangled mass of swinging arms, I don’t know whether he hit me or I hit him or both, but somehow I ended up on the ground with my trench coat gaping open. So I was rolling around in my thigh highs, garter belt…and nothing else, howling like a feral cat…pretty sure that’s how I earned the nickname Crazy Rose.”
I take a deep breath and look up at the sky. “And the whole fraternity was staring out the window, watching me roll around on the lawn like a prostitute, laughing at Crazy Rose.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure they weren’t laughing, Ryan…staring in awe, maybe.”
“Just another dumb, easy State girl. It’s so embarrassing when I think about it. Now you know why I was so mad at you in the limo when you called us dumb and easy—because that’s exactly how I felt lying on that front lawn.”
“What I said in the limo that day was ridiculous. Just because you made some bad moves with Phil doesn’t mean you’re dumb, Ryan. Own it and move on.”
His words wash over me with a sense of ease. He’s right. I do have to move on and let the bad memories go. I take a deep breath and hang my hands against the sides of my neck. “So does that bother you?” I ask.
“What?”
“My past with Phil. I mean, that all that happened and so many of your fraternity brothers know…”
“The only thing that bothers me, Ryan, is that Phil treated you badly. Your part in it—what you did,” he shakes his head, “doesn’t bother me a bit.”
I’m relieved, and another moment of silence passes between us.
“I probably shouldn’t admit this, but I’m actually impressed that you did that.”
“Impressed?!”
“Do you know how many guys would kill to have a girlfriend that would do that for them? There aren’t many girls that would be brave enough.”
I stare at him. He’s serious. I guess I’ve never thought about it that way before.
His movements are slow as he moves toward me. He circles my waist with his arms, drawing me close, and we kiss.
He moves his head back but continues to hold my waist. “Thank you for telling me, Rose.”
“Thanks for listening.”
“Do you want some champagne?”
“Of course.” He moves to the kitchen counter and hands me two crystal flutes. I watch as his strong hands grip the champagne bottle and twist the cork, remembering the feel of his touch on my waist, trailing up over my skin… The cork pops a hollow punch into the air, and white bubbles flow over the rim. The cool liquid runs fast as he pours, spilling over the crystal and down my hand. I laugh and raise the side of my fingers to my lips and taste the sweetness. When I look up, Jett’s staring at my mouth.
He steps forward with a sense of urgency and holds my face in his hands. I tilt up to him, and he starts a silent assault on my mouth. His tongue glides over my lips, urging them open.
“Oh God, Ryan. I want you so bad…” His voice is hot and husky against my ear, and his words shoot a wave of excitement through me.
He’s walking me back until my legs press against the table. He reaches down, flips the tablecloth, and clears a spot. His lips continue the gentle assault as he tucks his hands around my backside and lifts me to sit. I kiss him back, unleashing the physical and emotional need I have for him that matches his own.
His hands are spread, resting on my thighs, slowly drawing the fabric of my dress up. It trails over my legs, dusting a tingling sensation up my body. His lips move to my ear as his fingers play with the lace band of my thigh highs and then move slowly up and twist around my panties. He slides them down my legs and his hands trail back up my thighs. My breath hitches in my throat as his thumbs knead against the skin of my inner thighs, massaging and spreading. My hands cover his, stopping his upward motion. Nerves.
He abandons his path and brings his hands back up to the sides of my face, kissing me deeply. I reach for his belt and run a hand down the hardness bulging at his zipper. He sucks in a breath as my fingers move over him and back up to unbutton… His hands drop to cover mine and he pulls them away. I look up at the tense expression on his face.
“Bedroom,” he says, pulling me gently forward, lifting me off the table. He nods to the picture window. “I’m not interested in sharing you with prying eyes, or worse yet, having you plastered on someone’s social media happy gram tomorrow.
I pick up my champagne glass and follow him into the bedroom. It feels like fireflies are flickering in my stomach. He closes the French doors and cracks the curtain so that a stream of moonlight spills in.
He crosses to the side of the bed, swipes his iPhone, and sets it in the player. The first notes of a song beat out. He smiles across the room, shrugs his shoulders out of his jacket, and tosses it on the small loveseat under the window.
“Wanna dance?” A single black eyebrow raises. I nod. He meets me in the middle of the room at the end of the bed, and I reach one arm around his neck. The other connects with his outstretched hand, and he tucks my arm behind my back, swaying his body into me and kissing my bare shoulder. I catch the view of our gray shadows outlined in moonlight on the mirrored closet doors we’re dancing in front of.
Jett hums in my ear and spins me forward off his arm. He catches me with my back to his chest, and now I’m facing the mirror with his arms wrapped around me. His swaying slows and our eyes connect in the reflection.
He pulls me closer and I can feel his hardness against my backside. I roll my head back against his chest and he kisses my temple. I feel his fingers grip against my hips and I’m watching his hands, as I always do. Strong, lean fingers splayed wide over my rib cage, sliding up my chest. His hand dips inside the deep V-line of my dress, and he watches my face as he touches me. I close my eyes for an instant and then return my gaze to his.
His hands move to my shoulders. His fingers slide into the black fabric of my dress and hook. He peels my dress down slowly to my waist, until I’m standing in front of the mirror half exposed. We both watch his hand in the mirror trailing slowly over me, cupping and circling. He breathes a ragged breath in my ear. I’m torn between turning and cowering into his chest or continuing the sweet torture of standing half naked in front of him.
“Will you take your dress off for me so I can see you, Ryan—all of you,” he whispers into my ear. His tone is more of a statement than a question. I meet the intense, erotic look on his face and know I could never deny him anything in this moment. He kisses my hair and steps back.
I turn to him and let the rest of my dress fall over my hips and down to the floor. His slow and sensual gaze moves over me. A smile deepens and his fingers find his cuffs and start to unbutton. “Don’t move yet,” he says, staring. And now, because he asked me not to, all I want to do is press my body against his and undress him. Instead I watch him strip in front of me.
His arms and shoulders are cut with muscles that wrap around his chest and ripple down his abs into his waistline. I watch his fingers unbutton…unzip…and slide over the cut at his sides and down. I close my eyes and feel dizzy for a moment. When I open them back up, he’s standing in front of me.
“Tell me what you want, baby,” he whispers against my ear.
I nod but don’t think I could actually manage to get a word out past the breath I’m holding. This is the sweetest torture I’ve ever fe
lt, straining every nerve in my body against my bare skin. “Your arms… I need your arms around me,” I stammer.
He bends down, hooks his arms under my knees, and carries me on to the bed. He lays me down and half covers my body. His hardness presses into my thigh. I thread my fingers behind his neck and arch into him, longing to feel his heavy warmth covering every inch of me. My chest and thighs flatten, melding into lean muscle and long bones. The heat from his skin is like a drug to my senses. He kisses me full and deep, and my body strains against his hands as they explore. My fingers trail down his back, nails gripping his ass. A groan builds from deep in his chest.
He’s whispering in my ear all the things he’s going to do to me, and I’m losing my mind, all rational thought is happily abandoned to the waves invading my body. “Spread your legs for me, Ryan.” I feel his hands, exploring, entering me.
“Jett…” I say his name and it sounds more like a plea than the start of a sentence…as if I could form a complete thought right now.
“What, baby…” he purrs down to me, smiling knowingly into my eyes.
“I need you…”
He reaches a hand to the nightstand, tears the package with his teeth, and I watch his hands slide over himself, remembering what it feels like to have all of him inside of me. His body shifts until it’s completely covering mine, and his thighs, strong and hard, spread my legs. I feel the beginnings of him pressing against me.
With one hand he braces his weight above my head. I arch my back and wrap my legs around him, urging him into me. He eases, slow and deliberate. I open my eyes into his above me, as deep blue as liquid steel. I draw in a breath as he arches and eases deeper. He drops his forehead against mine. “All right?” he whispers. I respond, raising my hips to his and pulling his mouth to mine.
It’s better than all right. “It’s heaven,” I say.
He fills me completely, spreading a searing heat up the center of my body, into my neck and head. He groans and I let myself adjust to the exquisite feel of him between my legs, until he feels like he’s part of me and I don’t know where my body stops and his starts. He’s waiting for me to move, staring down. I squeeze my legs around him and pull him in. His fingers are an open palm, one hand tucks under my tailbone, the other palms the back of my head, and he uses them to guide my body to his rhythm, whispering husky words of encouragement into my ear.
I reach up and pull his face down to mine. Forehead to forehead, he rocks in and out of me until my insides are wrapped so tightly with heat there’s nowhere to go but up. A deep groan erupts from his chest as our sweet torture bursts through at the same time.
His breathing is rushing in my ear, long ragged exhales, mixing with my own efforts to catch my breath. He shifts his weight and rolls, pulling me on top of him.
My hair forms a curtain over my face as I rest my chin on his chest and catch my breath. His fingers untangle and I look up at him.
“This night could last the rest of my life and I’d be perfectly happy.” He’s smiling at me, his Jett smile. I reach a finger up and press it into the indented line running down his cheek.
“Ever after,” I respond. He grabs my fingers and kisses the tips. I smile and lay my cheek on his warm chest. We rest in this position for several quiet minutes, his fingers running up and down the bare skin of my back.
“What are you thinking about?”
I hate to admit it, but my mind has slipped back into thoughts of the competition.
“Tomorrow,” I answer, my voice a little deflated. I push myself up and lean one hand against the mattress, clutching the sheet to my chest. “I wish we weren’t playing against each other, Jett, and that winning the competition didn’t mean one of us had to lose. I could handle not winning for me, but Jade…” My words trail off.
He rolls onto his side, propping his head in his hand. His fingers reach up and move my hair over my shoulder.
“What about Jade?”
I hesitate. I wasn’t gonna go there, but something has changed between us. Our future seems graspable. We can see the finish line and we’re committed. And I trust him.
I tell him everything about Jade’s life, including the news she received this week about her mom’s cancer.
He leans up and kisses me full on the mouth.
“Promise me you’ll meet me outside at the bottom of the Met steps tomorrow after the competition.
I nod my head. “I promise.”
“Everything will be all right, Rose, no matter what happens.”
He doesn’t say the words “who’s won and who’s lost.” He moves to kiss me again, and I bury the thought behind the warmth of his mouth and repeat his words to myself, everything will be all right, Rose, but it sounds more like a dream than reality.
Chapter Sixteen
Jett
We lie with our bodies intertwined in a pool of warm bliss. The first sounds of morning in the city drift into my head: a dog is barking in the background and a horn honks. Ryan’s cheek is pressed into my chest, and my hand rests on her bare shoulder. I see my smiling reflection in the mirror over our canopy bed. I’m thinking about last night and praising the genius who came up with that idea. Ryan’s fingers move like feathers over my bare chest.
“Hey,” I say, kissing the top of her head.
“What time is it?” she whispers.
I pull my cell from the nightstand and hold it above us. “A few minutes before eight.”
I flip the phone back onto the nightstand, pulling Ryan on top of me.
“Last night was incredible,” I say to her. “You feel okay?”
“I feel great,” she says, smiling and flashing me a quick raise of her eyebrows. That’s all the encouragement I need. I move her hair over her shoulders and start to trace the curve of her breast with the tips of my fingers. A chirping noise intrudes and she turns to grab her phone. I hold her waist as she lunges for it. She reads and her face tightens.
“Crap,” she says, rolling off of me, “I have to go.”
“Everything okay?” I ask as she’s grabbing her dress off the floor.
“It’s fine,” she says, coming back to the bed to kiss my mouth. “I just forgot there’s something I need to do this morning.” She starts to move away and I grab her forearm and wait for her to look at me.
“Bottom of the Met steps. No matter what happens. Nine o’clock.”
“I’ll be there,” she says. I smile and let her go.
I text Ben and Vaughn. If Ryan’s going to ditch me, I might as well have them up for breakfast. Ten minutes later we’re sitting in the living room eating stuffed omelets and drinking orange juice.
“I think we should withdraw from the competition,” I say, and I proceed to tell them about Jade’s mom. “The girls need this win. We don’t.” Ben looks at me from under the brim of his Michigan ball cap. “I wouldn’t make the suggestion if it wasn’t a matter of life or death—but I think it might be for Jade’s mom. I just think the girls really need the win and we…well, none of us need it the same way they do.”
“Agreed,” Vaughn says, and Ben’s nodding his head. The decision, difficult as it may be, is unanimous. We are all confident we can create other opportunities, and, frankly, none of us are crazy about the idea of working for Trott. The only thing left to decide is how we go about withdrawing ourselves from the competition without letting the girls know that we handed it to them.
We make a plan to meet with Mr. Trott this morning and resign. We are hoping he will let us continue with the ceremony this evening without letting the girls know what we’ve done. By default, the contract and the cash would be theirs. I tell the guys I’m going to get cleaned up and will meet them back in the room in an hour.
To save time I phone in a room service order for coffee for the girls—my final day of delivery. Fifteen minutes later I’m showered and ready to go. Room service has delivered the coffee in to-go cups with extra Splenda and I’m making a final sweep of the suite. I step out on the balcony
and lean on the railing to take in the view of Central Park one last time. I’m on top of the world breathing in the fresh spring air, feeling like the weight of the world has been lifted off my shoulders now that my mind is withdrawn from competing. The park is starting to liven up with Saturday morning activity, and I watch a man walking a pack of small dogs. A couple jogs past him, and I think about how nice it would be to bring Ryan back to New York for a real vacation someday. The joggers turn and head toward the street. I’m stepping back inside when I stop. Something about those joggers looked familiar—the pink line and a blond ponytail flipping back and forth like a whip. An odd feeling settles over me. Ryan? I turn back and look again. They’re closer now, and sure enough, it’s Ryan and she’s running with someone. Robert? Robert Trott? Holy fuck. What is that all about?
My mind is reeling. She leaves my bed to go running with Robert Trott? I watch as they stop and he puts his arm around her shoulder. A crushing wave of emotions flood in, drowning my senses. I feel as if my heart has just caved in. I push the palm of my hand over my aching chest. God, Ryan. My mind is echoing her name. Her crystal blue eyes are in front of me as I replay the interaction I‘ve seen her have with Robert, his winks and stares. Is she playing him? Or is she playing me?
My jaw clenches as I suppress the question that’s threatening to blow a hole in my sanity. Is she fucking around with both of us? I take a breath, trying to calm down and pull my mind back from the downward spiral, but I hear the echo of her words from day one. We plan to do everything necessary to win this competition she had said. And now I see that she has.
My heart bursts, and I feel my happiness blown to bits and scattered into the wind ruffling past me. I trusted her, with my life story…my heart…my future. The tide of shock and crushing disappointment is receding, and I can feel the rushing tendrils of anger building deep in my chest. My palm slams against the railing. Fuck! My grip tightens and I feel like vaulting over the balcony and hanging off the building like King Kong and thumping my chest.