Full Measures

by Rebecca Yarros

  “Faith gets you screwed over, Josh, and Riley wasn’t even a quarter as sought after as you are. You’re Josh-freaking-Walker!”

  “And you’re December-freaking-Howard, and you happen to be the only girl I’m interested in. I’m not Riley! When I make a choice, that’s it. I don’t back down. I didn’t get where I am in hockey or school by backing down, and I choose you.”

  “I’m nowhere near ready to be anyone’s choice.” Not ready to risk my heart.

  His eyes narrowed, but he let my jab slip. “One day you will be, and I’ll still be here, no matter how hard you push me away.” With a sigh, he turned to leave.

  “Why?” I called after him. “Why are you doing this?”

  He looked back, his knuckles white with restraint on his bag. “Because I’m masochistic enough to care about you, and someone has to, Ember.” All hint of teasing was gone.

  I stopped at the university gym and ran six miles, trying to outpace everything that seemed to be chasing me. I lost myself in my iPod and the rhythm of my feet against the treadmill, refusing to think of anything but my breathing.

  I needed a plan. I needed to know what the heck I was doing.

  Once I made it home, showered, dried, and dressed, I unpacked my bag.

  Dad’s letter slipped out onto my desk.

  I picked it up and sat on the bed, tracing my finger over his curt scroll. I wanted to crawl inside the moment he’d penned my name, as if there was a way to reach out and touch him through the ink. I lifted the envelope to my nose, seeking some trace of him, some proof he’d really held this. No such luck; it smelled like plain paper.

  The envelope was crisp and white, not like the ones that had been through the overseas mail system to make it to us. This letter had never seen the outside of his book. When had he written it? Which deployment was this penned for? Did he always write one? I stared at the sealed envelope.

  Dad, did you know you were going to die?

  “Ember? You here?” Sam’s voice rang out from the entry, accompanied by the sounds of her book bag hitting the floor.

  “Yeah.” I stashed the envelope on the top of my bookshelf, between a picture of Gus and one taken during our last trip to Breckenridge. Time to act normal.

  “Awesome, because Kappa Omega is having a party on Friday and we scored an invite!” She waved the golden envelope in the air like a trophy.

  “No way. Frat boys are the ones who screw your roommate when you’re not looking.”

  “Promise? I’d love to get a piece of some Kappa Omega boys.” She breezed past me into my room and flung open the doors of my closet, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Girl. You know you’re twenty, right?” She pulled out a ribbed turtleneck. “Twenty, not forty-five.”

  I grabbed it out of her hands. “Hey, that’s Ann Taylor!”

  “That’s ancient librarian.” She grabbed my modest neckline and yanked it lower, exposing a crazy amount of cleavage for ten a.m. “Whip out the girls, because we’re finding you a rebound. If you won’t jump Josh,” she muttered, “because you’re insane, then we’ll find you a hot little frat boy.”

  Josh was off limits. I wasn’t bringing him into the shit-fest my head was at the moment, but I couldn’t see myself hooking up with some random guy either. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

  Sam was already pulling me through our apartment into her room. She opened her closet and started throwing clothes into my arms. “This is a brilliant idea. Hey, put that phone away! What are you doing? We’re planning your social debut here!”

  I ignored her and dialed Mom’s cell. It was Monday, and I had to check up. “Hey, Mom?”

  “Ember? What’s up, honey?”

  “Just checking that you got Gus’s helmet fixed.” If not, I still had time to pick up a new snap before tonight’s practice.

  “All done. We’re heading to the rink after school. Did you want to come watch?”

  The rink, where Josh would be. Where I’d have to listen to the Tweedle twins discuss him. Where Mom would think I was watching over her because I couldn’t trust her.

  I needed a little distance from Josh to sort myself out, and I needed to trust Mom.

  I had to start somewhere.

  “Actually, I’m going to get caught up on some homework. Kiss Gus for me, okay?”

  I heard her sigh of relief through the phone. “Absolutely. Remember, playoff game is Saturday morning, and you know he’ll be looking for you.”

  Yeah, they’d both be looking for me. “No problem, Mom.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Snow Bash was the sought-after party invite of February. Sam dressed me in a blue, strapless cocktail dress and pinned my hair up. Friday night came with the agenda of finding a rebound guy.

  She handed our invite to the plebe at the door, flashing him a killer smile before yanking me inside. Her sequin-covered dress lit up like a disco ball. We fought our way through the crowd to the bar as memories of Riley bombarded me. He’d loved his stupid frat parties.

  A cute blond guy with dimples came over with two red solo cups. “Would you girls like a drink?”

  “No thanks. We’re headed to the bar.” I flashed him a smile to take the sting out of my words. I wasn’t rejecting him, just the drinks. No chance in hell was I taking a drink some stranger had poured, or poured something into.

  Sam clutched my hand and hauled me toward the bar, weaving in and out of the people both dancing and just hanging out. A DJ was set up in the corner, and Bruno Mars’s “Locked Out of Heaven” blasted on the speakers. Sam squeezed up to the bar, ordered us two Sam Adams, and popped the bottles. “Here’s to rebounds.”

  We clinked our bottles, and I took a long pull of the Cherry Wheat. Rebound. The goal tonight was to find a suitable guy. Someone who would take my mind off Dad, and April’s crap, and Mom, and Riley, and . . . and . . . Josh. Yeah, right.

  The awesome thing about grief was that it took precedence in my heart, consumed every other pain until I chose to let it in. Dad’s death overshadowed Riley’s betrayal like a broken leg to a stubbed toe.

  I just wondered which one would leave harsher scars over the long haul.

  “What about him?” Sam pointed to a frat boy with dark brown hair and a nice smile.

  “Too short.”

  “Okay . . . him?” She gestured toward another guy. Good build, good height.

  “No smile.”

  She sighed and turned. “Hmm . . . him?” This time it was a blonde. Perfect build, dressed like an Abercrombie model.

  My stomach lurched. “Too Riley.”

  “Point taken.” We leaned against the bar. Sure, there were a lot of guys girls would drool over. It didn’t take long to peg my problem.

  None of these guys were Josh.

  A smokin’ hot dirty-blonde, wearing the frat’s polo, tapped his bottle on the mouth of Sam’s, causing beer to spill out everywhere. “Hey!” she shouted, jumping back to keep her shoes from being ruined. “Deacon! Why do you have to be such a jerk?”

  He grinned and popped a peanut from a nearby bowl into his mouth. “Sam, you’re looking mighty fine this evening.”

  “It’s not going to happen.” I knew that look on her face. She liked him, but not enough to go after him. She smiled as another guy with gorgeous Hispanic features walked over. “Have you guys met Ember?” She tilted her head my way. “Ember, this is Deacon and Mark.”

  Mark’s smile was kind and welcoming. “Nice to meet you, Ember.”

  Deacon’s green eyes scanned over me. When I thought about choosing someone who wasn’t Josh, a wave of uneasiness churned in my stomach, but I pushed it away. If I was going to hunt for a rebound, someone to lose myself in for a while, then Deacon might fit the bill.

  He gave me a slow smile and reached for my hand. I hesitated, but gave it to him. Instead of shaking it, he lifted it to his face, flipped it, and pressed a kiss to my palm. “It’s a delight to meet you . . .” He paused, raking his eyes over me again. “Em
ber.”

  Um. No. The violation of my space by that kiss locked my muscles in revulsion for an instant. I swallowed, willing myself to relax. As soon as my panic wasn’t obvious, I withdrew my hand, forcing the smile to stay on my face. “You, too, Deacon.”

  Jagger slid between Deacon and Sam. “Watch out, Deke. Josh has dibs on this one.”

  Annoyance itched at me. “Josh does not have dibs on me. We’re not dating.”

  Jagger’s eyes narrowed. “You sure about that?”

  Was I? We had to be only friends, at least until I wasn’t such a wreck. I’d already made that decision, right? Right. “I’m sure.”

  “In that case.” Deacon closed the distance between us and tugged me up against him. “Wanna dance?”

  Sam gave me the head-nod urge, and Jagger grimaced, no doubt disappointed in my choice. This was what I was here for, what I’d decided to do. Stick to the rebound plan. “Sure.”

  Deacon pulled me onto the floor to something a little dirtier. Rihanna’s “S&M” came over the speakers, and everyone around us got even closer, if that was possible. Deacon crooked his finger at me, and I slid up next to him, ecstatic to lose myself in the beat. Dancing was one area I could let loose.

  He yanked me closer, pushing his pelvis into mine. Whoa, buddy. His hands drifted over my back, gripping my waist and headed south to my hips. I repeated the “this is okay” mantra in my head. After all, if I rebounded with a guy, I had to let him touch me. I had to enjoy him touching me. Yes. I could do this.

  He moved against me, turning himself on, but I just couldn’t relax. I couldn’t let myself go like usual. I cringed every time he moved his hips against me. Put that thing away already.

  His hands gripped my butt, pulling me up higher on him as he ground against me. “Damn, baby, you’re gorgeous,” he whispered in my ear. His hot breath reeked of beer.

  It was the final straw. I raised my hands and pushed back against his chest. “Deacon, no.”

  That was all I got out before a giant body came between us. I caught his familiar scent before hearing his voice. “Back the fuck off, Deke.”

  “Whoa, she said she wanted to dance, Walker.” Deacon stood a head shorter than Josh, and nowhere near as intimidating.

  “She didn’t say she wanted her ass grabbed, did she?”

  I stepped around Josh’s back and slid between them, facing Josh. “It’s over, Josh. Nothing to worry about.”

  He kept his focus on Deacon, and if looks could kill . . . Yeah. “Go the hell away, Deke, and don’t come near Ember again.”

  Deacon put his hands up like he was under arrest, gave me a shrug, and walked away.

  “Seriously, Josh?” I jabbed my finger into his chest. “I had it handled. You didn’t need to go all caveman.” But I was glad he did. Hell, I was glad to see him. “What are you doing here?”

  He smiled and pointed to the frat letters embroidered on his shirt. “How did you think you got these tickets?”

  “I didn’t peg you for a frat boy.” A twinge of disappointment caught me off guard.

  He brought his face down to mine, rubbing his nose along my cheekbone to whisper in my ear. “You can’t peg me for anything.”

  I pulled away to save my own sanity. I wanted that mouth on more than my cheek, and that’s why I couldn’t have it. Not with him. “Thanks for the rescue.”

  “Why were you dancing with Deke?”

  “Because I wanted to.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Right. I figured that out. Why Deke?”

  Because you scare the shit out of me. “He was there.”

  He pulled me against him, and my body caught fire. Why couldn’t I freeze up around him? It would make everything so much easier. “Lie to everybody else, December. Not me. I see right through it. Why were you dancing with Deke? What are you looking for?”

  I debated lying to him, but what was the use? He’d seen me at my worst. He deserved the truth. “I thought I could rebound.” My face flushed, even with the heat of the party. “I just wanted to forget, to lose myself for a while in something that doesn’t hurt. Everything still hurts.”

  His eyes bored into mine, stripping my soul raw. “Dance with me.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I can’t use you.”

  “It’s not using if I want it. Besides, it’s just dancing, and I think that’s covered under the whatever-you-need clause of our unwritten contract.”

  “Contract, huh?” I couldn’t stop my smile.

  His was slow and downright sexy. “Contract, vow, promise, whatever. It all means I’m your whatever, and whatever means dance. Now.”

  He was perfect, and I was helpless. I slid up to him and moved to the music. Pressing myself against him, I forgot everything but the beat pounding through me and the movement of my hips with it.

  Big mistake, looking up into those gorgeous brown eyes. Going. Going. Gone. The need to touch him, to feel his hands on my body clawed through me. I nearly groaned remembering what he could do with those hands. “Whatever?” I asked, testing my boundaries.

  “I’ll never tell you no if I can help it.”

  Locked into his eyes, I reached my hands out, stroking over his muscled shoulders. I ran my fingers down his biceps and arms, savoring the tingles in my fingers and the spark in his eyes. When I reached his hands, I couldn’t manage a seductive smile, so I simply grasped his hands and put them on my waist. “Is this okay?”

  He pulled me close to his body in answer, fitting my legs so that I straddled one of his, and then moved me in perfect synchronization. Two seconds in Josh’s arms, and I was ready to forget any rebound plan had ever existed. My dress rode up higher on my thighs.

  He held me to him, and I let go. Where I moved with the music, he followed, his hands moving up and down my back, skimming over my skin where the dress ended and sending shivers through me. Two songs, three, and the sweat beaded between my breasts. Thank God my hair was up. I turned around, pressing my back into him. He kept up with me move for move. His head slipped to my shoulder, and he kissed the skin there. My head fell back against his chest as he pulled me against him tighter. His tongue stroked over my neck just before his teeth grazed across me, and his hands moved lower to my hips. The loud music camouflaged my moan to the other dancers around us, but he heard it. His fingers bit into my skin in response. I was crossing the line, but I pushed back against him, needing to feel that he wanted me.

  He did. I shamelessly moved my hips against him.

  “December . . .” My name was a whispered plea on his lips.

  I turned in his arms, but kept my body as close as before, rubbing against him in every place I could. A familiar ache stirred in me. I needed to feel his mouth on me. I ran my hands up the smooth line of his back, wrapping one around his neck while the other grabbed onto his hair and pulled him to me. “Josh?” I asked. I wouldn’t force him into something he didn’t want. Please, please want me.

  His gaze dropped to my raised, parted lips, and after a breath, he plunged. With one movement, he was on me, his tongue in my mouth, stroking, enflaming. I kissed him back just as fiercely. This was exactly what I needed, exactly who I needed. Josh.

  Fuck the plan.

  I leaned into him on my tiptoes, my heels still not bringing me level to him. His hands moved from my hips to my ass, and without strain, he lifted me against him, right where he somehow knew I needed him to be. There. God, yes. There. “Josh . . .” I groaned against his mouth, giving up every pretense of dancing.

  His tongue moved in and out of my mouth, stoking the fire that was threatening to burn my body alive. I barely remembered we were on a dance floor. Kissing Josh robbed every logical thought from my head and left me with a base need: his body on mine. The ache between my thighs built with every onslaught of his mouth, like he had a direct line to my core.

  He pulled his mouth away, his breathing hitched in a way that had me wanting to push him for more. “Fuck . . . December . . .”

  Now that sounde
d like a plan I could go with. “Upstairs?” I asked, too turned-on to be embarrassed by what I was asking.

  He leaned back, looking into my eyes. “Here?”

  I brought his lips to mine, speaking against their softness. “You said whatever I need, right?” He nodded. “I need you to make this ache stop, Josh. You’re the only one who can.”

  Without another word, he led me through the crowd. People reached out for him, calling his name, but he only acknowledged with a nod. A smile of feminine satisfaction spread across my face. His mind was only on me.

  He pulled me up next to him at the steps, keeping his hand on the small of my back as we nearly ran up the carpeted staircase. He steered me to the left when the hallway split, entering the first room on the right. The noise from the party was muffled as he shut the door, the only light in the room coming from a lava lamp in the corner. That was all I saw before he spun me, pressing me back against the door. “Whose room?” I got out breathlessly, not really caring.

  “Mark’s. He won’t mind.”

  Josh’s eyes were dark, intense. He was as turned-on as I was, and I loved it. This time I attacked, bringing myself up to his mouth and sweeping my tongue inside, tasting nothing but the addicting flavor of Josh. He reached behind my knee and lifted my leg to curl against his hip, then ran his hand down the back of my thigh, under my dress, to my rear. My dress slid up my thighs to my waist. Good. Better access.

  I rocked my hips into him as he ground against me. If he moved just a few more times like that, I was going to come against the damn wall. Yes, please. His mouth left mine to stroke his tongue down my neck, nipping and sucking as he went.

  A sound like a whimper escaped my throat when he kissed his way across my collarbone and buried his nose into the valley between my breasts. “So damn sweet,” he muttered. His hands gathered the fabric around my waist and he tugged, popping my breasts free of the neckline. He nudged the line of my strapless bra down and flicked his tongue over my nipple.

  He groaned, or I did. Whatever.

  I held his head to me, needing more. Deeper. Like he read my mind, he obliged, pulling my nipple into his mouth and sucking. “Josh . . .” His name was ripped from me.