“You can wear these since your clothes are soaked through, but I think that you should take a shower to warm up first. I would hate to be the reason you catch a cold or possibly something worse.”
He sets the clothes on his bed before walking through another door. I slip my shoes off in his bedroom before following behind him. When I get to the bathroom, he’s already removed his shirt, and I stare at his bare muscular back that, to my surprise, is covered with an intricate black and gray tattoo. When he reaches into the shower to turn it on, I use the brief movement to study it; the tattoo hugs his shoulders and moves down across his back as if it’s going to disappear underneath the hem of his boxers, but it stops right at it. The tattoo is of a detailed forest. I’ve not seen so much detail in a single tattoo before: it’s stunning. It’s dark, wild, and sexy as hell. I’m transfixed watching his muscles move underneath his marked skin when he turns around and freezes, bringing my attention back to him instead of his body. His eyes pause at my breasts, and I glance down, wondering what the hell has caught his attention as much as his tattoo caught mine.
My nipples are hard from the cold, but they harden even further from his gaze. My lacy white crop top has left absolutely nothing to the imagination since I didn’t bother with a bra today.
“Jesus,” he says under his breath before breathing hard through his nose.
I close the distance between us and press my chest against his before I lift up on my toes to kiss him again. His lips are addictive, and if it’s all that he’s willing to give me tonight, then I’ll take it.
His arms weave around my waist again as his lips work against mine before I feel his smile against mine. I slowly open my eyes and gaze up at him as if I’m in his trance.
“I broke my rules for you, Hadley. Please, don’t make me do it again.”
“Breaking them worked in your favor, though, didn’t it?” I try to make a point, which I doubt he’ll go for.
“You’re right, it did, but if I fuck you right now, then you won’t come back to me.”
I pause because he’s got me pinned. He’s exactly right, regardless of what I try to convince myself of—so much so that I’m at a loss for words. He takes my silence as my acknowledgment of his statement because he lets go of me and presses his lips to the top of my head before walking out of the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.
Twenty minutes later, I emerge from the bathroom. We’ve hit some rough water, and I’m feeling rather queasy. Wade knocks on the door before cracking it open and allowing himself in. He takes in the view of me in his clothing before frowning, “You’re too pale. Are you okay?”
I shrug as I finish rolling his sweatpants around my waist to ensure that they don’t fall off and take a seat on the cream-colored couch. “Not entirely. I’m feeling ill.”
He quickly strides over to me, and it’s now that I notice that he’s showered and dressed in dry clothing. “Is it from the rough water?”
I nod. “I think so.”
“I’m sorry,” he says as he walks back to the double doors where he turns the lights off in the bedroom so we’re nestled in pure darkness. I jump when I feel the couch dip next to me, not expecting him to join me.
“It’s me. Try and relax, okay?”
“I’m trying,” I say weakly as he pulls me onto his lap. I rest my head against his hard chest and take in a deep breath. His cologne, body wash, and his natural scent fill my lungs before I breathe out in a loud exhale.
“You smell good.”
Did I just say that out loud?
He chuckles as he adjusts me on his lap, getting comfortable in the dark. “You smell like me. I’m not sure if I like it or not. I prefer your floral and fruity fragrance rather than my cologne on you.”
“Mmm,” is all I manage to say. If I speak again, I’ll be sick, and that is the very last thing I want him to see. He runs his fingers through the wet tendrils of my hair as I shut my eyes, hoping for some relief from this storm. I can hear the wind whipping around the mass of the yacht, and I think that it’s only making things worse. Silence looms over us for a few minutes before he speaks again.
“We’re on our way back, and I don’t think that we’re too far out. Just close your eyes and think about something else.”
I nod and nuzzle into his chest, breathing him in again before smiling to myself. He’s actually making me feel a little odd tonight. I’m not someone who can easily set aside my past. Instead, I find it easy to hide from, but tonight I feel as if he has woken me up for the first time in my life . . . as if his kiss has somehow stolen the breath from my broken soul and breathed in something new and exciting . . . something so appealing that it may coax me out of my hiding spot.
“Tell me what you like to do in your free time, Rye.”
I think for a minute because really there’s not much to me other than sex, yoga, and whiskey. Oh, and romance novels—ah, the irony.
“I’m, uhm, usually busy doing yoga or reading.”
“Or fucking?”
How does he read me so well? I’m not a goddamn open book. It’s almost terrifying.
“Yes. Mostly that.”
“Why, if you don’t mind my asking?”
I shrug and stay quiet. I’ve just met this man. I can’t tell him that I use it to keep myself alive and the nightmares of my past at bay. No one but Lola knows those details about me. I swore at an early age that I would keep my struggles to myself because in general people don’t fucking care. I won’t be able to speak of my insecurities to anyone until I heal the wounds of my past, but for that to happen, I have to bleed out and again experience the pain that’s holding me back.
It’s something that I’ve thought about hundreds of times, but I cannot bring myself to experience such things again. Never again. We are all addicted to someone or something that can numb the pain and sex is it for me. The control that sex has over me consumes every inch of me: my heart, soul, mind, and body. Particularly my body. When I don’t get my fill, I’m immersed in a frantic nightmare of fear and a barrage of memories devours me.
“I’ll take your silence as a refusal to answer.”
The yacht rocks back and forth, and he tilts my chin up. “That motion is the yacht docking. Let me get you onto solid ground.”
“Please,” I say as I’m about to shift off of his lap, but he stands effortlessly with me in his arms. He takes the stairs down, where he places me on my feet, and a crewmember meets us on the dock, handing Wade an umbrella as the storm rages down on us again.
“Thank you,” he says as we walk back down the dock to the waiting BMW. He opens the door and ushers me in. I slide over and rest my head back against the headrest, closing my eyes as I will the seasickness to fade.
I don’t remember the majority of the ride back to Lola’s apartment, but I remember bolting out of his car the second it came to a stop and up to the apartment before I got sick in front of him. I don’t think that I even said goodbye to him. God, I’m horrible at this dating shit.
When I wake up, I’m lying under the cool sheets of my bed in the pitch dark. I no longer feel like the bed is rocking back and forth, and my skin isn’t clammy anymore. I sit up and reach for my phone on the nightstand, seeing a text from Wade waiting for me: I apologize for getting you sick. Please let me know if you need anything. I’ll send whatever it is right over. I enjoyed this evening, Hadley.
A genuine smile forms on my face as I reply to him: I’m okay. I’m sorry for running out on you earlier. Thank you for taking me on my first date, Whiskey.
I look at the time and frown to myself when I see that it’s after four in the morning. Maybe it’s a good thing, though, because I want him to reply to me more than anything, and that’s simply not healthy.
I lie in the shadows, willing myself to fall asleep again to stop the thought of his lips on mine when there’s a knock on my bedroom door. It cracks open before I have a chance to answer and a tall, lean man walks in. Holden.
�
�Hads? Are you awake?”
“I am now.”
“I didn’t mean to wake you up, I just wanted to check on you. How are you feeling? Lola texted me and told me that you were sick.”
I sit up and run a hand through my curls. “Hey stud. I’m okay now. Just a little weak from being sick so much.”
He sits next to me on the bed and runs his fingers down my cheek. “What the hell happened tonight?”
“I was on a yacht when that storm came through.”
“A yacht? One of the sightseeing ones? Or were you with that guy I saw you leave with?”
I look at him and decide to go with honesty. “I don’t know when you saw me, but I was out with someone, yes.”
“Mmm. I’m glad you got sick of him,” he says with a cocky smile.
“Don’t be an ass, Hold.” I roll my eyes and rest my head back on the pillow.
“I’m not, but I rather enjoy sneaking over here in the middle of the night, and I’m not ready for that to change. You feel too damn good on me.”
I giggle and move onto his lap. He feels entirely different from Wade, and for some reason, when he wraps his arms around me I wish that it was Wade’s arms instead of his tattooed ones. What is going on in my head?
“You’re absurd, you know that?”
“Or maybe you’re just too enticing,” he says as he trails kisses down my neck. I lean back, giving him easier access as his hand moves to the apex of my thighs.
“Let me eat this beautiful pussy and show you what you were missing while you were out with another man.”
My eyes go wide as I watch him move me back to the bed, and he settles between my legs. It’s now that I realize that I’m still in Wade’s clothing.
Betrayal.
The word courses through my body as if it’s the purest form of sins, but I’m not with Wade. Then why does this feel so . . . wrong?
“Don’t deny me this pussy, Hads.”
I purse my lips when my phone starts to ring. I look down at Holden and then at my phone on the pillow next to me with Gentleman Jack flashing on the screen.
Damn it!
I reach for my phone, unable to let it go to voicemail because I’m selfish and I want to hear his voice. With a swipe of my finger, I answer. “Hi, Whiskey.”
Holden raises his eyebrows at me and frowns but doesn’t stop trying to get Wade’s sweatpants off of me.
“How are you doing, Rye?” His voice is rougher with sleep, and my body reacts to the sound of it. The seduction in his voice kisses my skin with goose bumps, masking any fear I had of him moments ago.
“I’m holding up.” Pun intended.
“Did you want me to bring you something to eat? There’s an excellent French bakery around the corner, and it’s open around the clock.”
Maybe Gentleman Jack is the perfect contact name for him after all. Anticipation and hope surround me at the thought of seeing him again tonight. I squirm on the bed, thinking of this incomprehensible emotion he instills in me.
“That’s incredibly sweet of you, but I wouldn’t want you to go out of your way. Hey, what are you doing up anyway?”
Holden gets my sweats off, and I watch his eyes light up when he sees that I don’t have any underwear on. I realize that he has mistaken my excitement over Wade’s phone call as excitement for his tongue on my pink flesh. His mouth finds my sex a moment later, and he starts to caress my clitoris.
“I had just fallen asleep when you texted me back. I couldn’t get my eyes to open enough to read your message, so I figured that I’d call you instead. And I don’t mind going to the bakery, Rye.”
I wonder if his eyes are still shut while he speaks; the simple thought makes me smile. When did I become so enamored with this man?
My body responds to Holden’s tongue when I go to reply. “Ahhh . . . I . . .”
“Hadley?” he asks as I try to quiet my moans. Holden sure as hell knows how to make a woman writhe underneath his lips, and as much as I usually enjoy it, I just want to push him off of me right now. One side of my brain argues back with the logical side, telling me it’s exactly what I’ve wanted all evening—what Wade refuses to give me.
“I’m here, sorry.”
“I’m going to walk over and pick up something for you to eat before I come over. What is your apartment number?”
“No,” I say in a moan, and he doesn’t reply for a bit too long. I know that my breathing has changed as I try and fight off my orgasm . . . I sigh as my pending climax makes itself very well known to each extremity of my body.
“Rye. You’re with someone.” It’s not a question, but a statement.
“What?” I moan out, and I know that he knows what’s currently taking place in my bedroom.
Shit.
“The next time I call, and you’re about to come, don’t answer the phone. The only time I want to hear you come is when it’s because of me. Goodbye, Hadley.”
“Wade, please. Wait . . . I . . .” My orgasm rips through me when I can no longer fight it off for another second.
“At least, you yelled my name out while you came.”
“Wade . . .”
“Goodbye, Rye.”
He hangs up, and I feel like my heart just hit the lowest place in my empty stomach, making me ache in pain instead of melting into the pleasure that Holden just bestowed upon me. I tell myself to ignore the guilty feeling because I don’t owe either of these men a single damn thing, but that doesn’t help ease the guilt about Wade.
“You always taste so good and having some asshole on the phone made me want to get you off sooner. Did you enjoy that?”
Did I?
Physically, yes. Mentally . . . no. Not one bit.
I plaster on my sham of a mask and smile up at him. “I did, but I think I need some rest.”
“I don’t doubt that. I’ll see you later, babe.” Holden leans in and kisses me sweetly, but it’s not the lips that I want against mine. My body yearns for Wade’s lips instead.
If I close my eyes, I can feel his lips on mine, and it sends me into a sensual state of intoxication. I imagine our breath mingling as he locks his lips on mine. I push the thoughts aside for a moment before my body reacts.
Holden leaves and I sit up, hugging my pillow to my chest. Why do I feel nauseous again all of a sudden? The ache in my chest pisses me off, but I can’t seem to put a stop to it. I can’t decide whether I want to smack Wade for making me face my emotions or kiss him senseless. I know that what I do isn’t healthy for me, but it gets me through the day and calms my demons. Until now. Now, they are dancing around a goddamn fire pit, chanting Wade’s name.
Guilt washes over me in waves. A sinking feeling overcomes me, and I’m horrified that Wade won’t want to see me again. I grab my phone and dial his number without even thinking about it, feeling as if I need to fix this. The phone stops ringing, and I glance at the screen, waiting for him to say something.
“Wade?”
“Hadley.”
I let out a breath, thankful that he at least answered my call. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re not, but what can I expect after denying you?”
“I didn’t do it to spite you, Wade. It’s just something that I need.”
“You do not need to explain anything to me. Why are you calling? Is he still there? Is he fucking you right now?”
I’m unsure if his voice is masked in anger or disgust, but it hits me in the gut like a wrecking ball. “No. I asked him to leave.”
He goes quiet for a moment, causing my heart to sink even further into the dry, empty pit of my stomach. That heavy weight that I swore to myself that I would never wear seems to be blanketing my most protected organ.
“Will you take me to that bakery?”
“You’re sick, Hadley, and I’d rather not see you after another man has made you glow.”
“Please?”
“No. You were right to get your sexual needs met by someone else because I won’t take advantage
of whatever it is that you are hiding from. It’s glaringly apparent to me that you are using sex as a coping mechanism, but when I take you, it won’t be to merely satisfy a physical need. It will be because you won’t be able to stay away from me, and you’ll beg me for the physical connection, to experience more of what the static is between us. Fuck whomever you want. I’m the one that will make you swoon.”
“I’m not someone who is interested in more than sex, Wade.”
“You are. I saw it this evening when the storm hit. I’ll fight to get to know you because I know that there is more to the current that surrounds us than the physical act of sex.”
The line grows quiet when I don’t respond to him. How has he essentially figured me out in one evening? He doesn’t feel like a stranger anymore either. It’s as if I’ve known this man for years.
“Sleep well, Rye.”
“Goodbye,” I say because I’m dumbfounded. I don’t understand how I made it so easy for him to see right through me.
Do I loathe the thought of love? No.
Do I loathe the thought of my being in love? Without question.
I know that I’m frightened to let anyone in and that it’s hindered me in more ways than one in my life, but it’s shaped who I am. I’m content with my life. Why would I shed light on my hiding place when there is no need to? I know that once I show my cards, there will be no going back to my dark and safe, albeit claustrophobic, hiding spot.
It’s what he wants, though. Why do I want to be with him when he’s forcing me out of my safe zone?
Not only am I competing with an addiction to rid Hadley of some sort of history, but now there is also another man—if not multiple men—involved. How do I allow myself to go after a woman who is going to let me lure her in, but then use that energy on another man in the same night? Is it something that I will be able to handle time and time again? I don’t know the answer to that.
Blended (Redemption #1) Page 7