It got worse as she held my hand when the police interviewed me. She had just asked several of the belittling questions that the detective later would, like what I was wearing, how much I had to drink before I had a beer laced with Flunitrazepam, and if I’d ever been sexually active with Anthony before that night. Almost but not quite alluding to the fact that I must have had a hand in Anthony drugging me and putting his fingers all over my body and inside of me when I was unconscious. But when the detective asked those same questions, Lona went ape-shit crazy and had to be physically removed.
I get it. I know it’s tough for my loved ones to deal with the fact that I was hurt. It’s why, I think, my brother doesn’t talk to me now, because he thinks he’s to blame. I mean, Anthony was not only my best friend but his too. We were the three musketeers in college. Until we weren’t.
I can’t keep thinking about my past. Not now.
I haven’t thought about it in so long, but considering having sex with Ryder is triggering all these memories and feelings. I’m confused if I want to have sex or not.
Maybe it’s best to not be normal. Maybe I should go back to my apartment and try to create distance between Ryder and me and never think about sex again. Or only pine for it while reading one of my books. Because that’s safe. I know what will happen. I won’t have to worry about telling someone about my past, of another person I care for trying to figure out why Anthony would do what he did while also implying it was my fault.
My roommate in college said, because I was so much of a tomboy, that’s why Anthony sexually assaulted me. Another friend, because it seemed the whole goddamned world knew about the incident, said it was because I was so smart, and men want to hurt smart women. Yet another friend said it was because I had a cheerful disposition. And that’s why a man who I thought was my best friend would do the things he did to me.
The thing is, the whys never matter. And they don’t make any fucking sense. Come on. Their argument is just because I was me, I was somehow singled out to be sexually assaulted? I never wanted to be hurt like that. I never wanted to come to in a hospital with a nurse hovering in my line of sight and tell me that I needed a rape kit. I never wanted my sister to get arrested because she went crazy in a police station. I never wanted my brother to stop talking to me. And although I am a cheerful person who does like a little attention now and then, I’m by no means an attention getter who would be willing to put myself through that much shit just so people could look at me with pity. Or be the talk of gossip.
The real point of finding answers to the why questions is to feel a sense of control. But can we control hurricanes, tornadoes, death? As a physician, I know in no uncertain terms that no matter how hard I fight, how hard my team fights, there is no control over certain elements of life. None. And that’s frightening, yes. But it’s reality, and why not stop trying to analyze it to death and just live your life to the fullest?
God, I’m so distracted right now. Not quite into this kiss, even though Ryder’s doing everything just right.
Yeah, this is a bad idea.
Ryder leans away, huffing for air, which somehow does stir desire through me. “What’s life really like on a reservation?”
I can’t help but laugh. God, I like him. Which is too bad because what I want from him has nothing to do with like. But I can’t help it. I love his change of subject.
I shrug. “There’s a lot of poverty, it’s true, but there’s also a sense of community I’ve never felt anywhere else. What’s Indiana like?”
He holds me by my hips, in the way I’m growing accustomed to and liking a whole lot. Straightening a little, he’s towering over me. “Flat.”
I smile. “That’s it?”
He shrugs. “It’s not a bad place, but I’m glad I’m not living there now.”
“Ah.” I nod. “You like Wyoming?”
“So far. You?”
I nod again. “Yeah, actually I really like it.” He’s still hard, but his breathing is slowing and his face is relaxing. That’s when I realize how he’s been awake for more than twenty hours and is more than likely desperately tired. “Oh my god, you need to sleep, don’t you?”
“Who needs sleep?”
I smile. He makes me smile, and I like that about him too.
Then it hits me. I might be on the fence about having sex at this moment, but there is something I’ve always craved to do with a man. Something romantic and so fucking normal. And I’m going to summon the courage to ask for it.
“You do, Ryder.”
He holds me a little tighter. “Nah.”
“Yeah, you do. And it’s my turn to pick you up and put you in bed.”
He laughs. It’s a loud rumble of pure joy. I’ve never heard him laugh like that and something wonderful glows in my heart.
“How are you going to pick me up?” He arches a dark brow, looking, somehow, even more menacing yet playful. Only he could pull off a feat like that.
I step away from his warmth and his hands on me, sizing him up. I nod, conceding. “Okay, I probably can’t pick you up, but I can drag you by your arms to your bedroom. I’ll need help getting you into bed. Got a hoist, by chance?”
He laughs, really laughs in such a happy way.
“Or…” I have to swallow my nerves down and ask for what I want. “Or I could entice you to bed by promising to sleep with you.” Well, I hadn’t thought that through very well, now had I? I want to sleep with a man, with him. I want to cuddle and be close and fall asleep in his arms. But, men like Ryder don’t want to sleep with women. They want to fuck women. Right?
“Okay,” he answers quicker than I thought he would and his face has grown serious.
He grabs my hand and walks me through his apartment, turning off lights as we go. He turns off the hallway one, but then flicks it back on.
“You like the hall light on, door open, right?”
God, my heart, my freaking heart is just pinging and zipping and, in general, beating wildly from his consideration. He remembered what I like and doesn’t seem to think I’m weird. I nod, having to swallow yet again. This time what I’m swallowing is hard and makes me wonder if I’m going to cry at his thoughtfulness.
He takes me straight to his bathroom. In a nearly empty drawer, he pulls out a toothbrush, still in its wrapper. Next to it is a child-sized toothbrush.
“I got these for my sister and Neil, if they ever visited,” he says, handing me the adult one.
I’m starting to realize that what they say about assumptions is true. I’m an ass for thinking I knew what kind of man he was. He’s kind and sweet and considerate.
Maybe the kind of man who not only could handle my virginity but also be understanding if I told him why physical intimacy intimidates me. And why, until him, I’ve never wanted to do anything about sex. Why he both scares me and intrigues me on a level I’ve never experienced before.
Oh, but some of that is too much to say.
Or is it?
We brush our teeth in silence, after he asked me if his brand of toothpaste was okay. See? Considerate. I mean, I’d bet I’m not alone that when seeing a man like Ryder, all big and tough, the kind of guy who looks natural on an old motorcycle, to think he’s a womanizer.
But I don’t know who he is, and I’m worried that I might give him more than just my virginity. I might give him my heart if I’m not careful.
Chapter Eleven - Ryder
I’m going to sleep with Asha. Holy fuck.
Okay, need to think of what to wear with her because I usually sleep nude. Do I wear boxers tonight for PJs? They would be the most comfortable—other than bare-ass naked, which I doubt she’d go for—but parts of me could peek out at her while I’m sleeping. And let’s face it, I know I’m going to get hard while I’m sleeping next to her. I’m already hard and I just brushed my teeth, something not at all erotic. But here we are, Bone Ranger and I, worrying about what to wear while she’s in the bathroom cleaning up and going to wear one of my t-shi
rts. I also gave her some sweat pants, but she wrinkled her nose and said she didn’t like to wear pants to bed.
Bone Ranger was very happy to hear that. Very happy, indeed.
But me? Am I happy? Hell, yes. And I’m kind of miserable because although I’m exhausted I doubt I’ll be able to sleep. But sleeping with her is such a good idea. It’s romantic, right? Chicks dig stuff like that.
I’m pretty sure I’ll dig it too.
Here’s the crazy thing, though. I’ve never slept with a woman before. I never wanted to give the wrong impression. So I’d vanish in the middle of the night. I didn’t want to get asked to do something like cuddle. But I want to cuddle with Asha. I want her close and to lay her head on my chest and that whole sappy experience. And unlike fucking, I have no clue how to create that sappy experience. I’ll be awkward when I pride myself on my moves in the bedroom. But this move will be all new.
And what the fuck do I wear?
Okay, it’s official. I’ve turned into a chick.
Ah, fuck it. Who cares? I like Asha, and I’m not going to mess this up by being worried about my manhood. A buddy might ask if I’m pussy whipped, to which I’d have to say no, but I want to be. Yeah, I really want to be.
I decide to take off my shirt, keep my boxer briefs on, because they’ll keep Bone Ranger in check, and wear some PJ pants that my sister bought for me. They’re kind of Christmas-looking, but they’re the only pajama-like thing I’ve got.
Just as I’m cinching up the drawstring around my waist, Asha comes out. I get it now, why men drop to their knees, why I’ve turned into a chick, why I want to snuggle when I hate that word. She’s so fucking gorgeous. No glasses, her hair down and kind of wild, the way I love it, and in my gray Indiana University t-shirt. Nothing else, just my shirt which she’s swimming in and comes down to her mid-thighs and forearms. But she’s got nothing else on. Okay, she might be wearing her bra and panties, but Bone Ranger is taking over, assuring me she’s naked under that cotton.
She smiles nervously. “What side of the bed should I sleep on?”
She asked me something, but I have no words. I’m resorting to caveman communication, like, “Want you,” “Fuck me,” and “Now.”
Internally, I have to shake myself. Hard. Get your shit together, man.
I lick my very dry lips. “Whatever side you want.” Could my voice be any rougher? I mean, I sound like I’m dying. And I’m pretty sure she’s noticing.
She brushes past me and sits on the side of the bed, smiling at me. “I guess, this is the part where we sleep together. Just sleep. Together.”
I nod, staring at her, hoping my gaze isn’t as intense as it feels and that my erection isn’t too noticeable.
I walk closer to her and she scoots back to the other side of the bed. After turning down the covers, she slithers her little body under. But the t-shirt, God bless that fabric, slides up to reveal a little more of her thighs. Perfect legs. Athletic legs. Long-looking and so womanly.
What would they look like wrapped around my hips as I’m banging into her?
I sit on the bed, chiding myself for that thought and trying to conjure thoughts of…elderly people taking out their dentures to clean them. That’s better. That’s better.
I slide under the covers and before I can adjust too much, she’s there, right beside me, placing one of her almost-always cold hands on my chest, her head on my shoulder. Holding my breath, I hope this moment will last forever. God, she smells good. So sweet. So feminine. Her hair tickles the underside of my arm, but I’ll ignore that. We wiggle a little, getting more comfortable as I wrap my arms around her. Yeah, just stop time right now. Because I want this to last. It feels so fucking right to have her here with me, like this.
“Comfortable?” she asks.
“Yeah.” Unfortunately, I am. After being awake for more than twenty hours, being so comfortable makes me drowsy.
She wraps a leg around mine.
“You comfortable?”
She sighs. It’s a happy breathy sound, making my heart feel warm. “I really am. I hope I’m not on you too much. You can push me away if I get annoying.”
I caress some of her crazy hair from her cheek. “You’re never annoying.”
She makes that happy sound again, and I’m…I’ve never liked the word joy. It seemed too much. Or kind of silly. Or just for Christmas. And maybe because I’m wearing these particular pajama pants or, more than likely the real reason, because of the woman beside me, I’m joyful. That’s the only word that fits, because I’m not just happy. This is so much more than that. I’m radiating this elated feeling.
I try to memorize everything. All of it. The way she feels against me, the way her hair smells, the weight of her leg wrapped around one of mine. I want to remember this until my dying day because it won’t last long. She’ll figure things out soon and tell me to get lost. But until then, I’m savoring this.
Chapter Twelve - Ryder
I wake to the bed shifting. Then a small hand slips up my chest. A warm cheek lands near the hand. Asha’s getting back into bed after she might have used the restroom, and I’m so fucking happy.
Bone Ranger has never been this happy, either. I’m throbbing between my legs. I ache so much I’m in real pain. And to top that off, I have to pee. Awesome.
She’s getting comfortable, and I finally slit my eyes open enough to see that I somehow slept through the night. It’s morning. I’d judge that it’s late-morning with the way the sun is slanting through my almost-drawn closed blinds. Asha’s nuzzling her nose against me, right over my scars that she inspected with her delicate fingertips. I wonder if she hates my tats. If she pays them any mind.
Fuck, I gotta pee.
I don’t want to move, but I have to. If anything for my ego’s sake, because if I don’t get up soon, I’ll embarrass myself.
Carefully, I lift her hand, trying to slide away from her. “Be right back,” I murmur, hoping my morning breath doesn’t waft toward her. She mumbles something sleepily and I love it. As I lunge for my bathroom, I wonder if I sniff mint. Did she brush her teeth already? Better do that too.
It takes a while for Bone Ranger to calm the fuck down in order to pee. There’s a lot of convincing on my part that I’ll whack off as soon as she leaves to relieve my hard on. I feel dirty thinking of such things. About Asha. But Bone—Steve—my idiotic cock is happy with the idea of masturbating later and relaxes.
I splash cold water on my face and a few other areas, cleaning up, hoping I smell good. I smack a little more deodorant on just in case and brush my teeth in record time. I want to be perfect for her. For my Asha.
Yeah, that thought came out of nowhere, but I like it.
I love it.
Something was decided for me while I was sleeping with her. I want her. Not for a short while. I want her for…I don’t know. But I want to ride this out. I want to thoroughly know her. I want to meet her family, find out why she and her brother aren’t best friends any longer and see if I can help. I want to be there for her. So, I’m not just going to woo her, thinking she’s going to dump me at any second. I’m going to fight that dumping. I’m going to do everything possible to make this situation last, because, after last night, if I have to sleep without her even once, I might rip out someone’s throat. Okay, that’s crazy and violent, but that’s how I feel.
She’s mine. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s mine. I’m going to show her that I’ll do whatever it takes to win her over.
With my mind made up, I’m excited about getting back into bed, snuggling, and maybe planning a picnic for later. Maybe we could go for a long drive. Or a hike. I’ve never really given wine a shot. I’m more of a beer man. But maybe we could go to those wine-tasting things. Find something she would like.
I’m walking back with a spring in my step when she lifts to one elbow, cocking a sexy smile at me. And I’m brain-dead. She bites her bottom lip, and Steve wants to get between her legs. Fuck Steve.
I slide under the covers, and she wraps a hand around my cheek, pulling me down to her.
“Did you brush your teeth?” she asks on a husky whisper.
“Did you?”
She grins yet again, and my heart is knocking hard on my ribs. “Yes. I wanted to…for this.” She pulls me down more, her elbow straightening so she’s lying flat. I have to catch ahold of the bed on her other side so I don’t crush her with my weight. And to keep a little distance between us. But she doesn’t let up. She keeps urging me down to her.
The problem is I want to kiss her so much. I want to feel her lips against mine. I want her tongue in my mouth.
But is that a good idea?
Who the hell knows, because logic flies out of my brain the instant she arches her back and her breasts caress my chest. Her nipples are hard and I rush down to greet her lips. I nibble. I brush. I lay siege, using different ways to kiss her. Hard to soft. Fast to slow. When I’m slow, she moans and arches even more into me. God, I love her softness. And how hard her little nipples feel against me. I love her smell. She still smells so sweet and yet floral. I love her hands, roaming across my shoulders, now down to my chest.
I flick my tongue against the seam of her mouth and she opens for me. In her mouth is a world of warm and wet, and she suckles my tongue. I can’t help but moan at that. Then she pushes her tongue against mine, and I’m losing my mind. Just losing it. I’m back to being so hard that it almost hurts. I’m thinking about lowering more of my body onto hers, inserting a thigh between hers, like I did in the hospital. Her pussy was warm. So warm, and if I put my leg where I want to then I’ll find out if she’s wearing panties. If she’s not, then I can take off my pants and underwear and…
Fuck, I gotta get a grip.
Gotta stop this and act like a man. Well, like a gentleman.
I ease away from her, rolling to my side and trying to give myself a few inches of space. She’s breathing hard and looking at me with so much disappointment.
Bad Medicine (Wolf Love Book 4) Page 10