Debauched (Undone Book 3)

Home > Other > Debauched (Undone Book 3) > Page 2
Debauched (Undone Book 3) Page 2

by Jennifer Dawson


  Devastated, Ashley has been on the prowl for a replacement ever since, and every time she sees Chad she becomes like a dog in heat. Throwing herself at him mercilessly. Before Valentine’s Day it had amused me. Now it doesn’t.

  Over her head, our eyes lock.

  I can’t really tell you what it is about Chad Fellows that has captured my undivided attention when he’s everything I never wanted in a man. Yes, he’s a good guy. He’s stable, dependable, and compassionate. He’s also gorgeous, if you like the all-American type, with high cheekbones, messy brown hair and direct blue eyes. He’s tall and has a great body that defies his computer-geek status.

  Sounds like a dream guy, right? He is.

  He’s just not my dream guy, including the fact that he’s into the whole domination thing. A thing I definitely don’t want anything to do with.

  Gaze still intent on mine, he takes a drink out of a rocks glass. He slowly lowers the beverage and even from across the room I can feel his slow once over as he takes me in.

  Goose bumps break out over my skin. The hair along my neck prickles and a tingle races over my spine as the air crackles, connecting us from across the room.

  As much as he’s not my type, I’m not his either. Girls like Ashley are his type. But since Valentine’s night there’s something between us.

  Something I need to break.

  At that moment Tommy slides up next to me. “Hey, babe.”

  I want to kill him. Bash him over the head with his stupid guitar.

  Chad cocks a brow then returns his attention to Ashley.

  I’ve been dismissed. I grit my teeth. Well, good.

  Chad

  I keep my eye on Ruby Stiles, even though I want to forget that night where I’d held her in my arms while she cried. I have a lot going on right now, work’s crazy, I just got a promotion and my competition for the job now works for, and hates, me. I’ve got building development going on—a little side project I started with one of my friends—that’s now taken on a life of its own. I’m putting everything I have into business right now and Ruby is not something I want to distract me.

  It’s why I didn’t press after I called her the day after Valentine’s and she gave me the brush off, even though I wanted to. I’d hung up the phone and sighed in relief, because when I’d called I’d been half afraid she’d want to follow up on what had gone down between us the night before. Most guys in my situation wouldn’t have called Ruby at all, but I’m unfailingly responsible, especially when it comes to women. I’d done the right thing, ensured she was okay, and asked if she needed to talk. She’d said no.

  Responsibility absolved. That should have been the end of it.

  Only, I haven’t been able to get her out of my mind since that night. That strange, perception-altering night, where nothing played out as I’d been expecting. Before then, I’d always viewed Layla Hunter’s best friend as a pretty rocker girl with whom I have nothing in common. She’s beautiful and has a body that won’t quit, but she didn’t interest me that way I need a woman to interest me.

  Then Valentine’s happened and—I don’t know—something changed between us.

  I can still feel her quivering, trembling body in my arms. The stain of tears on her cheeks as she looked up at me with her blue, watery, desperate gaze. Still remember the sound of her voice as she spilled her secrets.

  She is nothing I need in my life right now. And even though I don’t want anything to do with the complications she presents, I can’t take my eyes off her.

  As Ashley drones on and on about a subject I can’t even remember, I watch Ruby and that ridiculous excuse for a man she brought with her tonight. She might not be my type, but she looks gorgeous. Her code of dress seems to vacillate from retro rocker to pinup girl with an edge. Like a rebel Snow White.

  She pulls it off very, very well.

  Tonight she’s decked out in an outfit right out of the nineteen forties, that slim-fitted skirt and black-and-white top hugging every curve to perfection. She’s curled her shiny black, shoulder-length hair into sleek waves and even from across the room I can see the brilliance in her blue eyes. And then there’s her mouth, full and ruby red, matching her name.

  She looks different from every other woman in the room, and when her date slides a hand over her hip, I experience an inappropriate surge of possession.

  As soon as he settles in next to her she darts a nervous glance in my direction. Our eyes lock, the air pulses, and she jerks her attention away from me. Right then I know her date is about me. That she’s brought him as a diversion.

  “So what do you think?” Ashley says, ripping me from my thoughts.

  I stare down at the cute little blonde who, in theory, is exactly what I need right now. She’s lush, pretty, and has a set of tits I could spend hours torturing. Best of all she’s not mentally taxing. I’m pretty sure she’s been discussing makeup for at least thirty minutes. She’s the kind of girl you take to dinner and don’t have to say a word because she talks a mile a minute.

  I’ve clearly missed some sort of question. I give her my most winning smile. “I’m sorry, what did you ask?” I raise my hand to my ear and say in a too loud tone, “It’s kind of loud in here.”

  She grins up at me, her expression brilliant and tinged around the very edges with desperateness. I’ve heard all about her trials and tribulations with the guy she used to hook up with. She’s on the rebound and I’m her prey.

  She hasn’t seemed to cue into the fact that I’m not interested. What Ashley wants, I have no interest in giving her, and the truth is, I feel bad for her. She’s been screwed over enough. Only I don’t know her well enough to give her a much-needed lecture about men who don’t treat her the way she deserves.

  Her lashes flutter and bat up at me in an exaggerated way. “I said I have tickets to the Bulls from work and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.”

  Oh hell. Now I’m going to have to hurt her feelings and I really don’t want to do that. But my lack of attention is not getting through to her, so I’m forced to be direct. I put my hand on her arm and her skin is cold. “Thank you, that’s very sweet, but I’m going to have to pass.”

  Her expression falls but I trudge on. Ashley doesn’t realize this, but I’m doing her a favor by not wasting her time, and squashing any hope she might have for us. I want to give her the work excuse, but based off her history, that won’t cut it.

  I rub my hand over her arm and smile. “I’m not an option for you, Ashley. I’m sorry about that, but you deserve a guy that is going to give you the time and energy you deserve, and I’m not that guy.”

  She jerks a little under my touch. Her face twists for a moment before it surges with hope.

  I repress my sigh.

  She puts her hand on my waist and I immediately drop my hand from her. She shakes her head and laughs a little. “That’s cute. But you’ve misunderstood; I’m not looking for anything serious. I’m not looking for commitment. I’m looking for fun. That’s all.”

  All bullshit, but I’m more than happy to let her save face. She’s looking for the loophole most guys would fall into, but I’m not that easily manipulated. Most women confuse good guy with push over, thinking that I am not wise to their games, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. I shrug. “I apologize if I misunderstood. But I’m not available.”

  Her attention drops to my mouth, turning hungry. Annoyed, I glance over her head and see Ruby talking to Jillian Banks and Leo Santoro, she laughs at something they say and then her gaze catches mine.

  She frowns, and then it disappears almost as though she’s caught herself. Which she probably has. I’ve noticed that about her. She filters everything. Reveals a glimpse of her true emotions before covering it up with what she believes she should feel.

  “What about for fucking? Are you available for that?” Ashley’s words rip me back to her. She’s wearing a seductive expression and her hand has curled into the waistband of my pants. “We could go
upstairs right now and I could blow your mind.”

  I resist the urge to express my exasperation with her. In her defense, this approach would work on ninety-eight percent of guys, so it’s her misfortune I fall into the two percent. I contemplate my options. I could go stern, but she’d probably like that. I could continue being nice but assertive, but that doesn’t seem to be working. I run through a couple other choices but decide on the truth.

  I wrap my fingers around her wrist and forcibly pull her off me. Then I look deep into her eyes and say with complete sincerity. “I am not an option for you. We are friends and that’s where you and I will stay.”

  Her expression falls again and her chin quivers the tiniest bit.

  While I’m sympathetic, I don’t relent. I release her hand and reach up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’ve been hurt, Ashley. I’m sorry about that. But as a friend, let me tell you, this isn’t the way to mend your broken heart. A man won’t fix what’s broken inside you. You have to do that all on your own.”

  Over her head I see Ruby climb the steps leading to the second floor.

  I smile at Ashley. “I wish you luck. You deserve to be happy and I hope you find it. But I’m not your guy.”

  Her eyes brighten. “Okay.”

  I chuck Ashley under the chin. “You okay?”

  She nods and points to a group of girls hovering around the kitchen island. “I should get back to my friends.”

  I smile at her. “Sounds like a good plan.”

  Ashley walks away, leaving me alone. I drain the rest of my drink and narrow my eyes on the stairs.

  The last thing I should do is go upstairs.

  I put my drink down on a small bar table.

  But I’m going anyway.

  Ruby

  I am not jealous.

  I stare at my reflection in the mirror in the upstairs bathroom of Michael’s parents’ house and repeat the words out loud. “I am not jealous.”

  I don’t believe me.

  There’s a knot in the pit of my stomach that’s been there ever since Chad’s hand gripped Ashley’s arm. A knot that grew when Ashley clung to the waistband of his pants and stared up at him in that way she had.

  I was across the room, I couldn’t hear what transpired, but I know Ashley. She’s been using the same expression to proposition guys since college.

  She’s not the kind of girl men say no to when sex is on the table.

  I swallow hard and flip on the faucet, letting the cool water trickle over my hot skin.

  All right then, I’ve solved my problem.

  I brought a date that will put Chad off any ideas my drunken confessions and clutching meant anything.

  He followed it up by hooking up with Ashley.

  Things can get back to normal now. We can go back to being friends and it will be like that whole night never happened.

  Eventually I’ll forget he knows my secrets.

  I turn off the water and dry my hands before touching my fingertips to my cheeks to cool my skin.

  I close my eyes.

  Why did I tell him my secrets? I’m not like that. In fact, I play things too close to the chest. So why did I tell him something I have never told a living soul? I have no answer.

  I just hate that he knows.

  I blow out a breath. He’ll never say anything. He’s a good guy, unfailingly responsible. He’ll know, but the secret will be safe with him. I’ll pretend, and eventually it will disappear like it never happened.

  I open the bathroom door; step out into the hallway, jerking back in surprise.

  Chad’s leaning against the wall, and while his stance is casual; his expression is intent and focused.

  I gulp. On me.

  I blink and manage to quell the gasp that rises to my lips. I need to be casual. To pretend he doesn’t affect me. I give him a little wave of my fingers. “Hey, you scared me.”

  “Sorry.” His voice sends a shiver down my spine.

  I gesture to the bathroom. “It’s all yours.”

  His blue eyes narrow. “I’m here for you.”

  Surprised pleasure bursts through me and I hate myself for it. I work to keep my expression completely neutral. I open my mouth to ask why that might be, but those aren’t the words that come from my lips. “I feel duty bound to warn you Ashley’s a bit clingy, so watch out.”

  No. Why? What is it about him that makes it impossible to hide my true feelings.

  His expression flashes.

  Tension tightening my muscles, I wait for him to call me out on my jealousy. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Since I have no intention of going home with Ashley, that’s a moot point.”

  Instantly the knot in my stomach unravels. I’ll think about why later, but now I need to remove myself from his presence before I give anything else away. I shrug. “It’s not my business anyway.”

  He cocks a brow. “Don’t pretend you’re not relieved.”

  The tone of his voice makes my belly quiver. I tilt my head as the first stirrings of defensiveness rears its ugly head. “What you do, or don’t do, has nothing to do with me.”

  “Maybe not.” He straightens and closes the distance between us. “But you’re still relieved.”

  He’s close enough I can see the shards of white in his blue eyes, feel the heat of his body. The strange desire that swept through me that night when he’d held me surges. But this time I’m not safe. Unlike then, he’s not in a comforting mood.

  Heart a wild, untamed beat, I resist the urge to step back.

  Chad is not the harmless guy I once thought he was. Underestimating him had been a mistake on my part, one I won’t make again. Since I am apparently incapable of lying to him, I try diversion instead. “What can I help you with, Chad?”

  His attention snags on my mouth before he meets my eyes. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that night.”

  My breath kicks up as my pulse starts to pound. I mean to say it meant nothing, that we were drunk, that nothing happened between us, but those aren’t the words that come. “You haven’t?”

  “No.” His hand slides around my neck and I have to repress the urge to jerk at the contact. He puts his hand on my hip, and steps forward, forcing me to move back. He does it again, and then again until I’m pressed against the wall.

  I’m not going to lie. It’s thrilling. The kick of desire I feel is so strong it actually surprises me. It must be all the time I’ve spent thinking about him. Some sort of extended, silent foreplay.

  He kicks my leg out, forcing my stance wider before he presses against me.

  “What are you doing?” My voice is breathless.

  He leans down and whispers in my ear, “Showing you.”

  The frantic beat of my heart sounds in my ears and when I speak, I tremble. “Showing me what?”

  “That what you’re feeling isn’t one-sided.” His fingers tangle in my hair, tugging until my head tilts and my jaw rises. I can feel his breath against my skin and I swallow the whimper.

  I want him. More than I’ve wanted anyone ever. I’ve been infatuated over guys, angsty, giddy and longing, but this desire is new. Demanding. It terrifies me, because I know the truth. Which is bad enough, but he knows the truth too, which is worse.

  I can’t deliver on all this heat and tension between us.

  When it comes down to it I’ll freeze, which is what always happens. Chad knows I’m a fake. Pretending isn’t an option. I put a hand on his stomach, intent on pushing him away, but don’t. “That night was a mistake.”

  “Maybe so.” He raises his head to look at me and when our gazes meet something electric crackles between us. “Tell me you haven’t thought of me.”

  I want to deny, but I can’t. “I have.”

  He grips my jaw, forcing me to maintain eye contact with him. “Have you slipped your fingers into your panties and come thinking about me?”

  Say no. “Yes.”

  His fingers release my jaw and travel
down the curve of my neck.

  I’m hypnotized by him. Wanting to say no, to tell him to stop this madness, but the words never come.

  He strokes over my collarbone. “There’s one small step from thinking to doing. To it being my fingers. My cock.”

  I want so bad to believe in it, but I can’t. I lick my lips and shake my head. “You know I can’t.”

  I can’t come with a guy. I’m defective that way. And no matter how much I want him it won’t work.

  “I know that’s what you believe. But it’s not the truth.”

  It’s Valentine’s Day all over again. Like we’ve picked up exactly where we left off. “And you think you’ll be the guy to change it?”

  “Yeah, I do.” There’s no hesitation in his voice. Only utter surety.

  Hope flutters in my chest and I hate it. There is no hope for me. “And why’s that?”

  “Because you can’t hide from me.” He runs his thumb over my bottom lip and my belly dips and heats. “But even more important, I won’t let you.”

  This, right here, right now is why I need to stay away from him. Appropriate responses slide through my head, but I don’t want to say any of them. All I want is to melt into him.

  He makes me want to believe. And that’s dangerous because it’s not true.

  He can’t fix me.

  I shake my head.

  “I’m going to kiss you now.”

  “Okay.” The word is a harsh whisper.

  His lips brush mine, soft. Sweet even.

  My breath catches and holds.

  Another brush of his mouth over mine. Back and forth. He doesn’t deliver the contact I desire. I stay motionless, barely breathing as he teases me, makes me want him even more desperately than I already do.

  The tip of his tongue strokes across my lower lip and my nipples pull into hard, almost painful buds. I clutch at his shirt, fisting the material in my hands while I’m suspended in this time and space by the sensation of his mouth barely touching mine.

  His teeth scrape over my flesh and I let out a gasp, bowing to force greater contact. In answer, he slides his hands down my arms and encircles my wrists, his fingers tightening around the fine bones, he raises them over my head.

 

‹ Prev