Adam.
“So, ah, thanks.” I smile, trying to regain my mind. “And, yeah, after making friends with him I thought I could do all the normal things other people do. Marriage. Stuff like that. If I wanted to.”
She nods and looks down at the eggs that neither of us are touching now. “Marriage is...I don’t know how I…you know the Cheyenne were matrilocal—women held many rights within marriage. The kids were hers. If she wanted to divorce her husband, she could just kick his stuff out and that was that.”
“You want to kick my stuff out?” I hold my breath, even if I am just teasing.
She smiles as she looks up at me. “Nah. You made me scrambled eggs with cheese.”
“Whew.” My heart, crazy organ, beats a little faster.
She chuckles. But then her smile dims. She holds the sheet closer to her chest. “What do I have to do—what do I have to do to get you to give me oral sex?”
Nothing. Not a damned thing, baby.
That’s what Steve’s shouting.
But I, thank god, have a tiny bit of reasoning in my head. “You have to go on an all-day trip with me.”
She moves the box tray yet again, turning to me, her eyes big and begging. “But can you do that first and then we go on the trip?”
Steve’s screaming all sorts of things, a lot more excited than he should be. But I manage to say, “Nope. Now, eat your eggs and take a shower. We have a lot of driving to do.”
She sighs disappointedly, which turns me on even more. But I am going to win her. If it’s the last thing I do, she will be mine.
Chapter Twenty-One - Asha
Ryder carried me to bed last night because I basically fell asleep on him after a day of hiking around the Medicine Bow National Forest. I’m not sure how I did, considering being on a motorcycle should have made me cautious enough to stay awake. But, nope. I was asleep by the time we got home, kind of aware he was carrying me inside, and putting me in bed.
I just called Ryder’s apartment home.
That can’t be good.
Or is it?
Yesterday, I basically realized that all my assumptions about him weren’t true. He is the settling-down kind of guy. But could he with me?
Do I want that?
Yeah, I realize. I think I do.
My sister adores him. I doubt my folks will, but they only want good Cheyenne boys for Lona and me. And obviously Lona isn’t adhering to that with her really pale Goth girl, Bit. I think my parents would be a lot more welcoming of Ryder, even if he does have a lot of scars and tattoos. He has the right anatomy, I’m sorry to say. God, I hate thinking that way, and it makes me realize that I’m going to have several talks with my parents to make sure they accept Bit and Lona.
I wonder if Hon has met a nice girl. I wonder if he will.
My sister’s talk from the day before yesterday rings through my mind as I’m groggily waking up, secure in Ryder’s heavy arms. Maybe I should call Hon. Maybe I should force him to tell me why the hell he stays away from me. But I can’t help but feel betrayed by him. When I needed him the most, he was gone. Nowhere to be found. I mean, I remember the police and my sister saying how it was thanks to my brother that Anthony was caught at all, but then Hon just vanished from my life. He wasn’t even there when the trial began, except when he was called to be a witness. But he wouldn’t look at me. Not once.
He tore my heart in two that day and the following days when he wouldn’t accept my calls.
Why should I be the one to call him? It’s his fucking turn. He should call me.
Now, in this lazy morning, Ryder squeezes me, laying a leg on mine, enveloping me completely. “When did you wake up?” His voice is deep and groggy and eases away my hurt.
You know what’s crazy? I think Ian would help all my internal wounds even if I told him about them. He’s not just a distraction. He’s so much more. He’s…healing me. God, Megan, would love him.
“Not that long ago.” I turn in his hold, snuggling even closer. “I was planning to brush my teeth and then attack you.”
He kisses the top of my head, nestling against my hair. “Attack me?”
“Yeah, buddy. You didn’t perform your end of the bargain yesterday.”
He chuckles. “You fell asleep on me. I couldn’t.”
I swallow, a serious thought crossing my mind. I don’t want it here. But it is. Because Ryder wouldn’t think about touching me while I was asleep.
It wasn’t until I was sexually assaulted that I realized how that kind of attack is so prevalent it’s even in the movies. There’s one where a guy puts to bed a drunk girl, or maybe she’s just sleeping, and there’s an angel on his shoulder and a demon on the other, talking about having sex with her while she’s incapacitated and not able to give consent. It’s supposed to be funny but I’m not sure how it is. The man in that movie is considered a saint because he chooses not to rape the girl. Wow. Just wow. That’s a good man? A man who chooses not to rape? But the impulse was still there?
So a man like Ryder, someone who really is a saint because he doesn’t have an impulse like that, is the kind of man I want…well, I want him for more than just taking away my virginity. I want to be the girl he thinks about settling down with. Maybe it’s too soon to think like that. But I want to be, at least, the girl he’s thinking about getting into a committed relationship with.
So how can I implant myself into his heart?
With food, right? That’s the saying—the way to a man’s heart is with food.
Which means I’m so screwed. I can cook spaghetti. From the can.
Shit.
I have to talk to Lona, see if she has any ideas.
But she said she thought Ian was already falling for me. Wouldn’t it be great if she was right?
I hug him even tighter while I’m rolling on top of his warm, almost hot body then over to the edge of the bed, flinging myself off. He snags me by the huge t-shirt I’m wearing. I’m sure it’s one of his, and I don’t remember getting into it, but under it I still have my bra on. And panties. Which is another reason why I like Ryder so much, he didn’t even take my bra off, probably worried I’d think him a pervert. But sleeping in my bra, well, waking up with that thing still on, strangling me, has me almost crazy with the need to take it off and breathe. That, and I have to use the toilet.
I turn and giggle and try to get away from his firm hold.
“Where ya goin’?” He’s not wearing anything on top, and I’m distracted by his body. His gorgeous chest and stomach, those muscular bricks for his abs that I’ve touched. I’ve made him come. I did that. I was sitting on him, my nipples rubbing against this chest as I came too.
“I have to pee and brush my teeth.” I giggle. “You really don’t want me to breathe on you right now.”
He lets me go and laughs. “I wouldn’t mind.”
I turn and race toward his bathroom. “You’re crazy.”
As I close the door, I could have sworn he whispered, “Crazy for you.” Or was that my imagination taking over? Would a guy like Ryder say something like that? I mean, I judged him terribly wrong. Or maybe not all that wrong. I think he was a bit of a womanizer before me, but now…Can a womanizer stop being a womanizer? Isn’t that magical thinking that a lot of women have? Like they think if they’re good enough then he’ll stop cheating or ogling other women’s breasts?
Or maybe Ian was a little sexual before I met him, but he just wasn’t ready for a commitment. Until now.
God, I’m pathetic, aren’t I? I thought I’d be fine to have casual sex, get rid of my pesky virginity, and move on with my life. Finally be a normal girl. And maybe I am more of a normal girl than I’d imagined, because I’m trying to create an imaginary relationship between Ryder and me.
As I take off my bra, cupping myself because it feels so freaking good to be free from that confinement, I wonder just how much I’m going to be hurt at the end of this. Ryder’s said some amazing things about wanting to be normal too, thi
nking about marriage. And when I talked about Cheyenne marriages, I thought him so cute to ask if I was going to kick his stuff out. But I don’t feel like I have any kind of power to have him stay with me, stick with me after he’s helped with my V-card.
I hurry with the other things I need to do in the bathroom, wondering if I’ll have a totally broken heart. Maybe I can convince him to have sex with me now. And then, when he moves on to the next woman, I won’t be as hurt as I might be if we keep dragging this out. I mean, I’m sleeping with him. I’m constantly with him. And I haven’t gotten annoyed with him once. It’s like an instant relationship that’s not. That’s probably why I’m getting so attached. Which I’ve got to stop.
So, yeah, I think as I spit out my toothpaste and wash up, I’m going to figure out a way to have sex with Ryder. Today.
In the bathroom, after I wash away some white foam from the corner of my mouth, I glance at myself. How can I seduce Ryder into having sex with me? I mean, he keeps wanting things from me—like meeting my sister, taking me on day trips—that are making it so I get further and further attached to him. I like him so much now I’m already hurting when I think how things will end between us. Doesn’t he understand what he’s asking for is tearing me up?
No, because he’s not going to get torn up afterwards. He’s a pro at this, and this is my first time.
I’ve never felt like Ryder used his experience against me. I’ve always felt like he was with me, having as much fun as me. But not now.
I feel like I aged a couple decades in his bathroom, and I’m not sure what to do about it.
Maybe I should call off the deal. I mean, would it be that bad to die a virgin? There are worse things in this world. And maybe I have placed too much emphasis on being “normal.” What’s that anyway?
Is getting rid of my virginity more important than my heart?
No.
Obviously.
But would I lose my heart if I kept playing this game with him?
Or have I already lost it?
I have no idea how to face him after my spiraling-downward thinking, but I know I have to. I’ve been in the bathroom, staring at myself for way too long. I kept thinking I’d find some kind of answer within my eyes, but now I just feel goofy.
Taking a big breath, I open the door and there he is, in his boxer briefs, his erection noticeable. He’s leaning against the door jamb, nonchalantly. But in a flash, he’s grabbing me, yanking me from the bathroom, his lips slamming against mine.
I push against him, looking up. “You brushed your teeth.”
“So did you.” He’s closing the distance I just tried to gain. “Used the other bathroom.”
“You have two bathrooms? How much is your rent? I can’t believe how big this place is compared to mine.”
He shakes his head. “We’ll talk about rent later.” He’s grabbing me by my t-shirt, pulling me against him.
“We will? What are we going to talk about now?”
He’s hard. So hard. And his eyes are so full of desire. For me.
It’s difficult to be discouraged about the future when he looks like that.
He shakes his head and smiles, giving me that predatory look that now makes my inner thighs tingle and warmth spreads from my heart to my breasts to the apex of my legs. “Not going to talk.”
“No?”
“No. I’m just going to make good on my end of the deal.”
“Oh,” I say breathily.
He smiles and kisses me again, his tongue insistent against my lips. I open to him and forget everything. There’s only been a few times that he’s been this aggressive. I liked it then and I love it now. It’s like something in him snapped, and he needs me more than he’s ever needed anyone else. More magical thinking? Probably. But I can’t help it as his hands glide down my sides to the bottom of the t-shirt.
“I’m taking off this thing.” Somehow, I know he’s really asking me, getting my permission, before he does what he says he will.
I nod.
He whips off the t-shirt, throwing it god knows where.
His smile is, indeed, wolfish. “You took your bra off.”
“I didn’t like sleeping in it. You have my permission, in the future, to take off my bra if I fall asleep on you.” I’m a little stunned I just said that, what with alluding that we have any kind of future, but he nods as he’s gazing at my breasts.
He’s walking forward and I’m backing up, although I do want him to uphold his end of the bargain. It’s just…he’s all animal right now. And I’m not scared. Any other man acting this way, I’d freak. I’d run from the apartment. I’d do something, anything to get away from this kind of man. But on Ryder, I like it. I like him raw and hungry. For me.
When I back into his bedroom wall—I’d hardly gotten far from the bathroom in the first place—he grabs my hands, sliding them up my body.
“Show me again,” he demands, his gaze intense and focused on my breasts.
“Show you what?”
“The way you like to be touched.”
He leans down and kisses my neck, still holding my hands as he guides them. I’m not sure if he really meant for me to show him, because he’s in control. Only, he’s kind of not. With my hands on my body, I know I have power here. I can say what I want to. Stop when I want to. And start whatever comes to my mind.
I maneuver our hands so his palms are on my stomach, me pulling his hands up and up. He cups my breasts, and I moan as he’s biting and sucking my neck. I arch into him, his rough hands. He caresses me, one hand rolling my nipple between his finger and thumb. And I let go of his hands. I let go. I give him all the control when I wrap my arms around his neck.
Golden arousal is coursing through my body, and everything he’s doing is so perfect. He pinches my nipple as he’s kissing down my throat, right to my breasts. He suddenly grabs my ass, pulling me up his body. I wrap my legs around him as he levels my chest to his face. When he kisses around one of my breasts, the other he holds with his hand, I cry out. My panty-clad sex is pressed against his hard stomach, aching for something more.
He takes my nipple into his mouth and I rock against him. My pussy is screaming for something. Like the night before last, I’m not quite sure what it is I want, but I have a really good idea. I keep rocking against him as he lavishes me with his tongue and mouth and a hand. My breasts feel worshipped. And he keeps turning me on. More desire is pulsing through my body.
With one nipple in his mouth, he suckles deeply as he moves away from the wall. I’m on his bed faster than I can account for, and his fingers are inside the waistband of my panties. He’s pulling them off, and my breath catches. Fear trickles in.
Fuck, I hate this fear. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.
I trust Ryder. I like him. I want this. I was aching for this.
But I’m suddenly scared, and I hate it and myself a little.
He throws my panties over his shoulder and smiles. His face sobers when he glances down at me.
“Give me your hands.”
I do, stretching out to him in a silent request, begging him to take this fear away, to make me feel normal.
He interlaces our hands although he has to bend over the bed awkwardly. I’m perpendicular to how we usually sleep and he’s standing where my feet are, at the side of the bed. He’s giving me space but still touching me, looking only in my eyes.
“I’m with you, here, where you’re safe.”
I nod.
“I’ll never hurt you. Never.”
I nod again.
“I’ll only do what you want me to do.”
I want to cry at that. He’s so sweet. So understanding without me saying one word.
“I want to lie down beside you.”
Slowly, I nod again.
He doesn’t lessen his grip of my hands and gingerly lowers his massive body next to mine. I turn, looking more squarely at him.
He smiles so reassuringly. “Show me what feels good, baby.”
I blink and think, trying to clear my way back to him from this mental fog.
“I—I loved it when my nipple was in your mouth.”
He smiles again. “I’m going to move you, so I can do that.”
I give him a quick nod and he slowly releases my hands, holding me by the base of my ribs and scooting me up so my breasts are level with his face once more. He starts slowly, licking me, looking up at me after his tongue has been on my nipple. From that one touch, my body responds again. Desire is flooding down my spine, leaving tingling sparkles where he licks. He kisses around my areola then takes me in his mouth.
“Oh, Ian.”
He sucks harder.
I tunnel my fingers into his hair, pulling him closer.
He’s sucking and kissing and caressing, and everything feels so good.
But I want more. So much more.
I take one of his hands, tracing it down my belly right to my sex. I’m not thinking about anything other than what feels good and how to feel even better.
He moans as I take his finger and run it on top of my clitoris. I make circles around and around my nub, his finger under mine. He sucks in my other nipple and I arch, letting my hand go. He keeps circling round my clit, keeps sucking, making me crazy with how good everything feels.
But I want even more. “Now, baby.”
He stops sucking my nipple and looks up.
I lay flat on my back, huffing for air. “I want you to…now.”
He blinks. Something isn’t clicking, and I should just be a woman about this and ask for what I want.
“I need your face between my legs.”
His smile is slow and so sexy. “Fuck, that was hot.” His voice is gravelly. With him so close, his voice so low, the tone is inside me, echoing. Reverberating throughout my body, make me want him even more.
He hovers over me, his hips between my legs, but he’s not touching me. He’s descending, every second agonizing to my needy body. He adjusts me so my legs are over his shoulders, and I watch him as he’s watching me. He’s smiling, his breath heavy and fast. Then he looks down and moans.
“So pretty.”
Bad Medicine (Wolf Love Book 4) Page 18