by Tessa Teevan
Combust
Copyright © 2014 by Tessa Teevan
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Editor: Mickey Reed
Cover Designer: Robin Harper of Wicked by Design
Photographer: Scott Hoover
Cover Model: Ripp Baker
Formatter: Champagne Formats
Other Books by Tessa Teevan
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
A Sneak Peek at the Prologue of Conflagration
Playlist
About the Author
Other Books by Tessa Teevan
Ignite (Explosive #1)
Incinerate (Explosive #2)
Inflame (Explosive #3)
Sweet Southern Sorrow (Sweet Southern #1)
“YOU ARE such a fucking tease.”
Story of my life. Literally—or so it seems. That’s me, or what they like to call me. Andi Kane. Tease. Blue Ball Extraordinaire. The Virgin Queen. Yep, virgin. Did I mention that part? A tease and a virgin? Sounds like a lethal combo, right? As a self-described chronic masturbator from age fifteen, I've had a huge fondness for clitoral stimulation and never minded using my own fingers to get myself off. In fact, it’s all I wanted. At least that’s what I thought at the time.
But once Blake Jackson introduced me to the art of dry-humping in the back of his Chevy, I was hooked on the act. The way he rubbed his hard erection against my jean-covered thighs had me moaning into his lips in no time. Before I knew it, I was moving at a frantic pace as the tingling between my legs started to increase until I was pushed over the edge, experiencing the first orgasm not from my own hand. It was incredible in a toe-curling, mind-blowing, body-shuddering, make-me-breathless kind of way—without even having any penetration. I remember thinking to myself, Well, damn. Who needs sex when it already feels this good? And that’s been my motto ever since.
And it’s been one that has come back to bite me in the ass—and not in a pleasurable way. What my teenage mind didn’t realize or, well, care about at the time was that, while a little over-the-clothes grinding might get me off, it certainly doesn’t do it for the guy, and eventually, they’ll get tired of you just using your hand.
Don’t get me wrong. Once Blake and I got a little more serious, I graduated up to blow jobs, but by senior year, he wanted to go all the way—something I wasn’t quite sure I was ready for. Blake and I weren’t in love. In fact, we had already talked about parting ways since I was going to the University of Tennessee and he was heading to Clemson on a football scholarship. Neither of us wanted to start off college by being in a long-distance relationship, and we were smart enough to know that this definitely wasn’t going down the marriage path anyway. And knowing that there was no future for us made it so much easier for me to always say no. Until he no longer took no for an answer.
I don’t mean that in the way that he forced himself on me. Blake’s not like that, and I’d pepper-spray his ass if he were. All I mean is, instead of spending the rest of our senior year together, I walked in on him screwing Lisa Templeton at his dad’s New Year’s Eve party. He had the decency to look a little ashamed, but he shrugged and called me a tease, saying that he didn’t want to wait any longer. I promptly closed the door and haven’t spoken to Blake Jackson since.
That doesn’t mean the damage wasn’t done. All of a sudden, I found myself being asked out on dates by guys from all over the county, and my smart ass continued to do what I do best. Tease.
I knew what these guys were doing. Blake Jackson, star quarterback, couldn’t even get into my pants, and it became a competition to see who could bag the girl he couldn’t. I didn’t mind. They could try; they’d all fail.
Fingers, mouths, over-the-clothes rubbing? I was good with all of that, but not a single one of those guys was worth losing my virginity to, especially when I knew it was just a game to them. Eventually, one got bored and the next one moved in. Every single one of them called me a tease. Which, in my defense, isn’t really true. I’m a tit-for-tat kinda girl, and if I got off, so did he. I never promised sex, never teased that they were going to get it, so I felt the moniker was a little unfair. Now when they labeled me The Virgin Queen… That one I couldn’t really argue with.
“How was your date with Alex?” Reese, my best friend and soon to be roommate, interrupts my thoughts, and I turn to look at her, rolling my eyes. “That bad?”
Groaning, I lie back on my bed and cover my eyes with my forearm. “I don’t know why I even bother. I can’t wait to get out of this small-ass town and get to UT, where not everyone knows why Blake and I broke up. It was my first date with the asshole and he was already trying to stick his hand down my pants in the movie theater before the trailers were even over. I don’t know what they talk about in the locker room, but I’ve never hooked up on the first date, so I’m not sure what crap he was trying to pull. I had to almost break his fingers to get him to stop.”
After I’d glared at him and squeezed his fingers with enough emphasis to let him know that he wasn’t getting anywhere near my panties, Alex crossed his arms and sulked throughout the whole movie. When he dropped me off, I barely made it out of the car before he was peeling down the road.
I let out a long sigh before continuing. “That’s it. I’m making a pact. No more dates until I’m in Knoxville. And probably not even after I get there. I need a break.”
She sits down on the bed beside me and pats my thigh. “That’s probably not a bad idea. It’s only a few more weeks, and we have plenty to do to keep us occupied until we pack up and move. Then you won’t have to deal with a bunch of horny assholes all vying to be the first to bang the mayor’s daughter or the baseball hero’s sister.”
Yep, that’s me. Daughter of Mayor Kane of Bethel, Tennessee: population 3,276. Sister of Riley Kane, the baseball god all the boys look up to.
“Sometimes I think I should just get it over with, but at this point, there’s not a guy in all of Dyer County I’d even consider sleeping with. At least I know it’ll be different at UT and no one will be singing R. Kelly when I walk into a classroom. Blake is such an asshole for starting that.”
She laughs then starts singing his famous Bump N’ Grind until I take my arm away from my eyes to swat her shoulder. “Hey, it’s true what he says. There’s nothin’ wrong with it, but there’s also nothing wrong with taking the next step either. You know me
. I say go for it. Sex really isn’t that big of a deal. It’s 2010, Andi. The likelihood that you’re going to end up living happily ever after with the first guy you sleep with is probably pretty slim. I’m not saying go out and whore around, but if you like bumping and grinding so much, I promise you’re going to love sex even more. Just get it over with. Rip off the Band-Aid. Straddle the bull. Ride the cock. Feed the python. Get it over with,” she insists.
It’s not the first time we’ve had this conversation, and until I take her advice, it probably won’t be the last.
Quirking my eyebrow up, I gape at her. “You just described sex in three different ways using animals. Excuse me if it doesn’t sound so tempting.”
Reese just waves me off and continues. “All I’m saying is we’re going off to college in a few weeks. You’re eighteen years old and you won’t have Daddy looking over your shoulder everywhere you go. These are supposed to be some of the best years of our lives. Just promise me, when we get there, you’ll have an open mind. Have some fun. Live a little. Plus, I know you like the whole bumping-and-grinding action, but let me tell you. It has nothing on the real thing.”
She winks at me, and I have to grin. Reese tells me everything, and I’ve heard plenty of details of her extracurricular activities with her long-term boyfriend, Cy, who is a year ahead of us and already at UT.
“Well, when you put it that way, who could resist? Trust me. I’m not saving myself for marriage or anything, but at least with Cy, your first time was with someone meaningful. But then again, I have no intention of getting into a serious relationship my first year of college, so maybe you’re right. Maybe I need to just do it.”
Her eyes light up. “Trust me. I’m happy Cy was my first because I love him and I knew he would take care of me. That being said, if you’re not looking for a relationship, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with becoming experienced until you do settle down and fall in love. And I don’t mean sleeping with a hundred guys before you decide to date. Just find someone who interests you, who physically attracts you, and have some fun. That’s all I’m saying.”
When Reese lost her virginity to Cy at age sixteen, I thought she was crazy. But I also knew she was crazy in love, and I couldn’t begrudge her for that. It’s nice that she’ll always be able to remember her first time being with someone she was in love with, someone she’ll never regret being with. That’s why I never took that final step with Blake. I wasn’t in love with him, and nothing compelled me to let him be the one.
Now that I’m eighteen, though, why am I so eager to get it over with? It’s as if becoming what the world considers an adult and going off to college has turned on some magical switch in my brain that’s telling me that it’s okay to have sex. It’s okay not to wait until marriage—or even until love. I’m starting a new chapter in my life. I’m finally going to be away from home, out of the watchful eye of Dad and the entire town of Bethel. I’m finally going to be able to find my independence and live my life the way I want to. And that’s what I want to do. Live. Experiment. Have fun. Figure out who I am and what I want in life. Isn’t that what college is all about?
Okay, sure, we all go there for higher education and all that good stuff, but it’s also about gaining life experiences so that, when we’re thrown into the real world, we can stand on our own two feet, head held high, screaming, “Look out, world (and men)! I’m here!”
“Hello? Earth to Andi!” Reese is giving me a quizzical look when I revert my eyes to her.
I give her a sheepish grin and set my shoulders. “You know what? Maybe you’re right. I’m young and single, and I’d rather concentrate on classes than a relationship. So maybe I’ll find someone fun, and if one thing leads to another, then so be it.”
Even with my internal monologue telling me that I’m ready, just saying it out loud sends a wave of unease throughout my veins. Can I have meaningless sex? I guess only time will tell.
All I know is that I’m feeling like my brain’s going through its own form of a ping-pong match where one side is yelling, Lose it already! and the little, white angel on the other side is slamming the ball back, singing, Wait for it. The wishy-washiness of this subject is already giving me a headache, and I’m ready to put it to rest, at least for now. I tell myself that’s probably normal and push the anxiety aside because there is plenty of time and no pressure for anything. I’m way overthinking this, and I need to just let nature take its course. I can’t force anything, and there’s no way in hell I’m going to a party for the simple fact of looking to have sex. That’s not happening.
“Oh great! If I were single, I’d start college with the same mindset. And you’re in luck. Cy’s fraternity is having a party the first weekend, and what better place to meet a hot college guy to fool around with?”
I can’t help but roll my eyes at her. “Right. Because the type of guy I want to lose my virginity to would be at a frat party. Are you crazy? Those guys are man-whores.” I’ve heard the stories from my older brother, and I shake my head, knowing there’s no way that’s happening.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Andi. They’re the perfect type. Hot. Experienced. Part of the reason my first time didn’t suck so bad was because Cy knew what he was doing. But you have a while to think about it. Just remember—keep an open mind,” she reminds me, and I simply nod. Easy for her to say.
The thought of a hot, experienced guy for my first time actually makes perfect sense, but not at a frat party where anyone could walk in. Lisa might not have cared about my getting an eyeful when I found her with Blake, but I will never be that girl. There’s no way in hell I’d put myself in a situation where that could happen. Not to mention, the sounds of loud music and a hundred people partying isn’t exactly the ideal setting for my first time. I’m not asking for candlelight, roses, and old-school ‘90s R&B playing on the radio, but a party setting is less than ideal.
Rather than tell Reese that, I say what I can to appease her. “All right. I’m not making any promises, but I guess I’ll consider it.”
Squealing, she gives my shoulder a squeeze. “This is so exciting! My little Andi’s growing up. It’s about time I finally talked some sense into you.”
I shake my head and think about what she said. Rip the Band-Aid off? Maybe she’s right. It’s not like I’m waiting for my Prince Charming to walk through the door with the key to my chastity belt, and I’m definitely not looking for a boyfriend either. As I listen to her prattle on about the party, I decide that I might as well go for it. Quick and painless—well, as painless as possible. Now all I have to do is find the right willing guy. On a campus of twenty thousand students, it shouldn’t be too hard. Hot and experienced, just like she said.
Remind me never to listen to Reese again.
I WAKE up to a dull, throbbing in my head and wince at the sunlight pouring through the blinds. I have to blink twice, suddenly aware that I never went back to my dorm last night. A soft snore startles me, and I turn to see him, the one, shifting in his sleep. Wincing again—but for an entirely different reason—I slowly lift the covers off me and slide out of the bed, trying my hardest to keep quiet. The irony of the act doesn’t escape me, and I have to stop myself from laughing. Just twelve hours ago, I was a virgin, and now I’m the girl sneaking out after a one-night stand— if you can call it that.
As I glance around the room, I hastily find my jeans, bra, and T-shirt, pulling them on, barely registering that I can’t find my panties. Cursing, I decide to forget about them and leave them as a memento. Not that he probably wants one.
Thankful to see my purse sitting by the door, I turn to take one last look at him. He’s absolutely adorable when he sleeps, just as he was when he was awake—good-looking in that cute, boy-next-door kind of way. I want to crawl back into bed and cuddle up against his lean chest, but after the mortification of what happened last night, I doubt he’s going to want to see me when he wakes up.
While part of me would agree with him on that s
entiment, the other part actually wishes things had turned out differently. With a heavy sigh, I quietly ease the door open just a smidge so I can slip out, tiptoeing down the hallway as not to alert anyone of my presence. The last thing I need is a resident advisor catching me and getting us both into trouble.
As I make the walk of shame across campus, I’m grateful that most people have decided to sleep in, most likely recovering from the events of the night before or resting up for all the tailgating to be had before the Volunteers football game this afternoon. However, there are a few stragglers out, some early morning joggers, and even though I know it’s crazy, I feel like everyone I pass knows I’m in last night’s clothes and they’re judging me. In reality, it’s probably just me judging myself. Slipping on my sunglasses, I decide to forgo any eye contact, too embarrassed that I’m going to be found out. Truth be told, if I were stumbling back to my dorm half naked and half drunk, no one would probably even care, but this is new for me, and I’m not sure how to feel.
I open my own door just as silently as I did his when I left him but then see Reese’s empty bed and realize that she probably spent the night with Cy. Grateful that I won’t have to spill any details about last night, I quickly change into my pajamas, down a couple of Tylenol, and climb into my own bed. As much as I want to sleep this hangover off, I can’t get last night off my mind, and if the slight aching between my legs is any indication, my body isn’t going to let me forget it either. Even though I feel exhausted, I’m also restless. My mind wanders onto how it all started, and I can’t stop thinking about how it all went so wrong.
The night started off just fine. It was the first Friday of the fall semester, and after a week of syllabus studying and lectures about entering a brand-new world, I was more than ready to go out with Reese. All week, she’d kept up with her ‘let loose’ crap, and it wasn’t until I promised to at least look for someone remotely interesting that she started to back off. I’d kept my promise to her, checking out guys on campus and in my classes, but not a single one of them had caught my eye yet, much to her chagrin.