“So what was that about?”
“I’m not sure. Something is going on with him and Ryder and now I’m in the middle of it.” After this morning’s conversation, I couldn’t help but feel like there was more to the story than Ryder had told me.
Mason stared at the ground as we walked. “So what’s going on between you and Ryder?”
“Before we talk about that, I want to talk about us. We need to clear everything up. Okay?”
“Yeah. Meet me for lunch?”
“Sure. The Union?”
“Yeah, meet you there at noon.”
“See you then.”
While walking to my next class I pulled out my phone to check for messages. There weren’t any. I sighed then summoned the courage to text Ryder.
Me: So what was that really about this morning?
I stared at my phone waiting for a response. Even once seated for my next class, I kept the phone out, praying he’d respond. My stomach twisted. Maybe he was still in bed? I’m sure he’d see it later and answer me.
At lunch later, I left my phone out while Mason and I talked.
“So how much do you remember?” I asked.
“More than I’d like.” He dipped a French fry in ketchup. “I’m sorry.”
“I know.” I smiled. “And I know you didn’t sleep with Fallon.”
He hung his head. “How about you and Ryder?”
“Did I sleep with him?” I scoffed. “No. You know me better than that. Do you really hate him that much?”
“I hate the thought of him. With you.”
“Because you think he’ll hurt me?”
“Yeah. And he’s not good enough for you.”
“How do you know? You don’t really know him.” I nibbled on my chips. “He’s not like you think.”
Mason rolled his eyes. “Come on, Brinley. Don’t be stupid.”
“Don’t. Don’t make me feel like an idiot over this. You don’t know him, but you know me and you know I’m not going to make a stupid decision. I’ve managed this far in life without being screwed over by every guy who looks my way. I think I can handle Ryder.”
“Nobody can handle that guy. He’s a real piece.”
“Look, I need a friend right now, but if you can’t talk about Ryder without insulting me in the process of talking shit about him, then we won’t talk about it. Okay?”
“You can talk to me.” He sighed. “I’m sorry.”
He hadn’t brought up the kiss and I didn’t care to either. I hoped it was one of the things his drunk brain had blacked out. It was better forgotten. “Are we okay, then?”
“I hope.” He smiled.
“Good.” I smiled back.
—
Three days had passed with no word from Ryder. It had been an excruciating seventy-two hours for me, but in boy-time, three days probably wasn’t much. At least that’s what I tried to tell myself, though I’d started to give up hope.
When Thursday rolled around, Fallon took off with friends. It was college night downtown and she never missed an opportunity to party. She’d planned to crash at a friend’s apartment, which normally meant Mason would come hang out in my room when he got off work, but after the crazy weekend, I decided not to mention it.
I flipped through the channels looking for something to watch. I was bored and depressed and hated that I’d let myself get attached to Ryder. He’d warned me. At least I didn’t actually have sex with him. Though it still hurt to think he didn’t have the decency to call and even try to explain what had happened at his place that day.
A knock at the door forced me up. I glanced at the clock. Mason must have decided to stop by on his way to his room. I was happy to have the company.
Ryder stood in my doorway, wearing a button-down shirt. The sleeves were rolled up. He looked sort of dressy…and drunk. His eyes were glassy and a little bloodshot. “Hey.”
“Hey.” I ran my hand along my hair, trying to smooth my ponytail. I was glad to finally have the opportunity to talk with him about things, but a little warning would have been nice.
His tongue slid over the place where his lip ring should be but wasn’t. When I looked up, he grinned. “I took it out for Mom. She’s not a fan…like you are.”
My face warmed and I stepped back. “Want to come in?”
“More than you know.” He eyed me up and down with a smirk then stepped in and closed the door behind him.
I abruptly looked away. How much had he drunk? Several times I’d seen him drinking but not get even remotely drunk. “So, you were with your mom tonight?”
“Yeah. Dinner with the family. Like I have one.” He walked to my desk and ran his hand over it. He picked up a book I’d been reading, flipped the pages, then set it down. “Guess I should say Mom and the stepfamily. It’s my birthday so we pretend to like one another.”
“Oh, happy birthday. Your twentieth?”
“That’s the one.” He sat on my bed, having no problem making himself very comfortable in my space.
Of course, he made my room feel tiny. His long legs stretched across the floor and he leaned back, resting his hands behind him on the bed. Not knowing what to do with myself, I stood awkwardly in front of him. “Did you go somewhere after dinner?”
“I met some friends but wasn’t having fun.” His gaze dipped over me then settled on the strip of flesh exposed at my waist.
My yoga pants fit snugly but low on my hips and my fitted tank top had ridden up. I tugged it down then sat facing him on my bed and crossed my legs. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Mom bought me this watch.” He lifted his wrist and flashed a nice silver watch. “The guys bought me drinks. Problem was, I only want one thing for my birthday…and she probably hates me.”
When he turned to me, speaking was damn near impossible. It was probably the alcohol, but his lazy smile and hooded eyes had me wound tight. His hair begged to be brushed back and his reddened mouth beckoned.
“Why do you think she hates you?” My voice sounded weird, kind of breathy.
“Because I’m not telling her everything.” He looked away. “And I never answered her text.”
I shook my head. “Well, she doesn’t. A little mad maybe, but she doesn’t hate you.”
He glanced at me.
“So what aren’t you telling her?”
“That she scares the hell out of me.”
I laughed. “I find that hard to believe. You’re pretty intimidating.”
“I’m not scared of her. I’m scared of the way she makes me feel…and that I’m going to lose her.”
I stared at my hands in my lap. “How does she make you feel?”
“Undeserving.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.
I hated seeing him like this, and it was no way to spend his birthday.
“Ryder?”
He turned his head toward me.
“What do you want for your birthday?”
He studied me, then the corner of his mouth quirked up and he shook his head. His shoulders rose and fell as he sighed.
I shifted onto my knees and moved closer. When my body brushed against his arm, he stiffened. I ran my hand over his thigh and said, “In one hour your birthday is over. I can’t let you spend it like this.”
He sat upright. “Brinley, you don’t have to do this. That’s not why I came over. Honest. I just wanted to see you, but I shouldn’t even be here.”
He tried to stand, but I scooted onto his lap and straddled him. I draped my arms over his shoulders. “But you’re here now.”
He caressed my cheek and tucked my hair back. “You’re beautiful and perfect…which is why I’m not having sex with you.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Who said I planned on having sex with you?”
He chuckled. “Touché.”
“Can I see your tattoos?”
He cocked his eyebrow and made an adorable face. “I feel like you’re taking advantage of me drunk.”
I bit back a smile. “If you have to shed all your clothes to show them to me, then I don’t need to see them. I figured you could just roll up your sleeve or something.”
“Sure,” he said in a long, drawn-out way. “You want me naked.”
Yeah, I did, but more like in a fantasy way. The thought of him really taking off his clothes made me a bit panicky. “Never mind. Forget I asked.”
With two fingers he pushed open the top button of his shirt, then the next.
My heart went all sorts of crazy, beating erratically as I tried to keep my cool.
With the top buttons undone, he pulled his shirt over his head. His right shoulder was covered in thick, black bands with thin lines intertwined, perfectly aligned with the definition of his deltoid muscle.
With my finger, I traced the line as it swirled in and out, weaving over his smooth skin. I raised my other hand to his perfect chest and ran my fingers across two small blackbirds flying away from a black jagged line on his chest. Like it had been ripped open and they escaped.
His chest rose and fell in a deep breath.
I ran my nail softly over the break in skin.
I stilled my hand and glanced up. My thin pants left no question. I’d turned him on.
He slipped his fingers behind my neck and pressed his lips against mine. I opened my mouth as he pushed his tongue in and swept it over mine. He tilted his head and sucked my bottom lip into his mouth then drove his tongue back inside. His hands slid down my body then back up, pushing my shirt up along the way. He broke the kiss only long enough to tug my shirt over my head and discard it.
“Where’s your roommate?” he asked between kisses.
“With friends. Won’t be back tonight.”
He groaned.
“What’s wrong?”
He dropped his kisses to my neck, licking and nipping his way up my jaw. “I needed a reason to stop.”
“Oh.”
He cupped my breast, traced the edge of my bra with his tongue. “Tell me to stop.” He pulled the fabric down and sucked my nipple into his mouth. My head spun and heat blasted through me.
“Don’t stop,” I murmured.
He flipped me onto the bed and settled over me. My bra was removed and he stared down at me for a second. I’d never had a guy look at me like that, but the urge to cover up disappeared as his appreciative gaze made its way up.
“Beautiful.” He brushed his lips over mine in a move that was so tender it pulled at something deep inside me.
I threaded my fingers through his hair and slipped my tongue into his mouth, wanting to taste him more than I’d ever wanted anything.
He wrapped my leg around him and pushed against me as his tongue explored my mouth. He broke the heated kiss. “Stop?”
I shook my head and kissed him deeper. My hips arched and he groaned as our bodies rubbed together. My head tilted back and he licked my neck.
His fingers drifted along my side as he moved his hand down my stomach. He cupped me between my thighs and rubbed his hand over me. “Now?”
“No, definitely not now.”
He chuckled and brought his mouth to my chest. His tongue flicked over me and I tried not to moan, but it was pretty much a lost cause. He pushed his leg between mine, spreading them farther apart. “There is one thing I want for my birthday.”
Oh God. He did want sex. My stomach flopped a little. What had I gotten myself into? I mustered courage and asked, “What?”
He must have felt me stiffen. “Not sex, Brinley.” He brought his mouth to my ear and whispered, “No more teasers.”
I froze.
“If you don’t plan to stop me now, then let me finish this.”
The thought of having an orgasm for him mortified me. Like I was on show. I couldn’t do it. “But—but what do you get out of that?”
“You mean, besides a really big fucking hard-on? The satisfaction of knowing you want me as bad as I want you.” He sucked my earlobe and pressed his teeth gently into it. “The pleasure of watching you co—”
“I don’t know,” I blurted before he could finish that statement.
“Wait.” He pulled back and looked at me. “Have you ever had an—”
“Seriously.” I covered my face. “We don’t need to talk about this.”
“Never?” His complete shock was evident in his tone.
I didn’t know how to tell him it didn’t seem right to do it alone and I had no plans of returning the favor with any of the other guys I’d dated. Sure, we’d made out and we’d done a lot of stuff besides kissing, but I could never let my guard down enough to have a full-out orgasm just from a make-out session.
“I didn’t mean to push you further than you want,” he said.
“You didn’t. Just—just quit talking.” I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. “You’re running out of birthday.” I pulled his mouth back to mine.
Our kisses picked up again and his hand ran down my side and rested on my hip, yet he didn’t push for more. But I wanted him to. I wanted to finish this too. No more teasers.
“Okay,” I whispered.
“Okay?” He pulled away and stared into my eyes. “You’re sure?”
I nodded.
Brushing his lips over mine, he said, “Say the word and I stop.” He ran his finger along the top of my pants then slipped past the waistband. The heat of his hand blazed down my stomach, glided over my panties, then settled between my thighs. He slid his fingers over me. My hips arched and I pressed into where he cupped me.
I lowered myself back on the bed, acutely aware of his eyes on me. The pressure of putting on a show for him was bound to kill the moment but then he repeated the process, this time adding slight pressure. My eyelids drifted shut and he sprinkled kisses over my collarbone before settling his mouth at the nape of my neck. The pleasure overcame the fear and I ran my fingers over his head, threading them through his hair.
His mouth worked in harmony with his hand. When he teased with a light touch, his lips would brush against my neck, but when he applied concentrated pressure, he’d suck and nip on my neck and ear.
The buildup, which had become a familiar sensation when it came to kissing him, began in my stomach. An intense tingling spread from my core into my toes. My breathing became ragged and my hips bucked slightly. The heat under his hand seemed unbearable. I never wanted the ecstatic feeling to end, but it was so intense I’d burn up if it didn’t.
Ryder brought his mouth back to mine and drove his tongue inside. His kisses seemed hungrier, like he fed on my pleasure. He pulled my lower lip between his teeth with enough pressure that it should have hurt but instead it triggered a moan that built in my chest. I did my best to suppress the sound, but when his lips dropped to my breast and he sucked my nipple into his mouth, it tore free.
In an almost frantic motion, he fumbled into my panties and slid his finger into me with ease. He froze and took several controlled breaths. He slid his finger almost all the way out then inched his way back in.
I shifted my leg and his hardness pressed against my thigh. It didn’t seem right to let him finish me off while he got nothing. Maybe he did expect some reciprocation, regardless of what he’d said. I ran my fingers down the ridges of his abs, but before I reached his jeans he captured my hand, interlaced our fingers and pressed it into the mattress, near my head.
His mouth returned to mine and his tongue mimicked his finger, delving in and out of me. My hips bucked with the motion, and figuring out what was on the other side of this building pressure controlled each move. The sound of our intermingling breathing, combined with the heat of his body pressed against mine sent my senses into overdrive. Focusing on just one sensation was impossible, as they all joined in a symphony of pleasure.
He pulled his mouth away, depriving me of his taste. I looked at him and found him watching me. Self-consciousness took hold and I attempted to steady my breathing.
He adjusted his hand so that the heel of his palm rubbed against me, syn
ced with the motion of his finger, and I lost the fight. My eyes wouldn’t stay open. My lips parted, releasing ragged breaths. He licked my top lip and pulled back again, except this time I didn’t care. I knew he watched, but pleasure replaced logic.
I gripped the blanket in one fist and tightened my hold on his hand with the other. A tingling pulled at my body like a taut string running from my belly button to my thighs. My hips rocked in a steady motion perfectly timed with his hand. The pleasure reached an unbearable high then shattered like a piece of candied sugar. Delightful shards of ecstasy scattered over my body with the aftershocks. For a moment I couldn’t move. My erratic breathing needed taming but my muscles had gone weak.
Ryder pressed his lips against mine in a tender kiss that made me acutely aware of him and what had just happened. He brushed several more kisses onto my lips. When he pulled away, I finally opened my eyes.
He tucked my hair behind my ear and traced my jaw with his thumb. His eyes were locked on mine.
I looked away.
With his thumb he forced me to face him. “Look at me.”
I attempted to make eye contact but couldn’t and dropped my gaze.
“Please.”
I glanced up then covered my eyes with my hands, feeling like an idiot for letting him watch me get off.
“Are you mad at me?”
I yanked my hands away. “No, of course not.”
“Then what?”
I shook my head. “I just…I don’t know. I’m embarrassed.” I pulled my hands back to cover my face.
“Don’t hide from me.” He uncovered my face. “If you had any idea how fucking amazing that was, you wouldn’t be.” He kissed my nose and reached for my shirt, helped me slide it on then lay on his back and tucked me into him. He turned off my lamp and pulled the blanket over us.
My back pressed against his body and I could still feel how turned on he was, which for some reason only turned me on more. I tried to lie still to avoid rubbing my ass against his pants. It seemed torture to lie like this but he didn’t complain. Instead he ran his fingers up and down my arm and occasionally planted light kisses on my neck. Everything about his gentle touch contradicted with the guy I, at one time, believed him to be. His hand slowed and his arousal waned.
Just a Little Crush (Crush #1) Page 9