Fading Out (17 page)

His mouth goes to my chest, one hand massaging my breast as he sucks a nipple into his mouth. I’m climbing, the feel of him rubbing against my clit, sliding between me…not yet with the condom. Skin licking skin. The warm pulse intoxicating me.

“You’re so wet…” he whispers against my mouth. “You feel so damn good, Ari. I could do this, right here, forever.” He pulls back enough to look into my eyes, and his show with hunger. His body trembles with restraint. “Do you know how badly I’ve wanted you…just like this? How much you’ve invaded my every thought?”

I shake my head against the ground, my throat tight with emotion. Every time he moves against me, I’m tempted to lift my hips—just a fraction to let him drive right in.

He tears the condom wrapper with his teeth, his gaze refusing to release me. And as he reaches down to slip it on himself, I lick my lips, heavy with anticipation. His body shelters mine as he rests himself against me, that one moment suspended before he pushes in, eliciting a soft cry from my mouth.

“Shit,” he curses roughly. His hand grips my thigh as he backs out slowly, then drives into me deeper. “Fuck, but you feel so tight around me.” Then all hesitance is gone. My thighs lock against his strong hips as he rocks into me fully, stretching me to accommodate his notable size. I can’t lie and say that I wasn’t worried there’d be pain. It’s been a while—and Ryder is all man, from head to toe. But my body opens to him, unfolding like petals of a wilted flower, demanding he quench my thirst.

“All the way,” I pant out. His eyes snap to mine, a desperate need gleaming there. “I want all of you inside me, Ryder. Don’t hold back—let me feel you.”

His lips crash down on mine, swallowing the last of my words, as he drives into me, giving me exactly what I crave. My fingers slick over his back, nails clawing to find purchase, as his solid muscles flex. I finally find my grip in his hair as one of his hands locks onto the back of my thigh, pulling me to him as he fills me with each unguarded thrust.

I rock up to meet him each time he comes down, the sweet, tantalizing sensation making me gasp as the taut muscle between the V of his pelvis rubs my clit. Then I’m shoving all doubts aside, enraptured in the oncoming climax. My muscles clench on a spasm, my walls gripping him, begging for just one more thrust… And then he groans and pushes his hand between my legs, his fingers knowing just where to touch me.

A cry slips from my mouth, and Ryder lifts up. He drives into me with more force, slow and achingly deep, watching me as I arch my back. I cling to his shoulders, holding on as he brings me to the edge. Then I’m crashing. He groans and thrusts deeply, his body seizing, and he stays there—hard and pulsing inside me.

His head drops to my shoulder, our breaths panting and floating out to meet the crash against the shore. Euphoria has never felt like this. The aftershocks wash over my body, sending rippling waves of heat and chills along my skin.

I feel his chest expand against mine, then he turns his head and presses a soft kiss against my neck. “You’ve ruined me,” he says, before taking my mouth again.

T
he problem with hookups is
—most of the time—the chick doesn’t go away after. I’m better than most guys, at least, I think; I let them know beforehand that there won’t be any texts, dates, a next time. I’m always upfront. So I’m not completely ruthless.

Ever since the night everything went to hell, I’ve never once desired a long-term anything with a girl beyond meeting my most basic, carnal needs. Hell, I’m still human. But after Alyssa, I had zero interest in putting my heart through the fucking shredder again. Just thinking about it makes me want to punch myself for being such a pussy—but it’s the truth.

Sometimes, you just can’t rebound.

Gavin and Laney have somehow figured out the fine finesses of having a strictly sexual relationship without allowing the complication of feelings to get involved. But I never wanted to tempt it. You let them know bluntly it’s a mutually beneficial coupling to get your rocks off, and then you each part, no baggage, no drama.

I have never been on the other end of a hookup, however. I was not the one who secretly hoped that I was different, that I’d be the one time, the one moment, to blow your mind so hard that you’d want to stick around. Now, for the first time…I’m
that
person. And I don’t like it one fucking bit.

“Bro, we’re heading out,” Gavin says as he slides on his sneakers. “You sure you just want to sit around here and mope all night?”

Dropping my iPad to my lap, I glare at him. I’m so fucking tempted to ask him if Vee’s said anything about Ari, if she’s said anything about
me
—I feel like a total asshole. I resist the urge, and instead say, “Bring back some wings.”

He huffs a laugh. “Yeah, sure.” Then he walks out the door, leaving me to brood by my damn self. I have to admit, I don’t blame him. I’m getting pretty sick of me, too.

I’ve been the biggest dick out on the field this past week. Taking a lot of my shit out on the guys at the away game—though they haven’t complained. We have the playoff steadily approaching, and working them hard is what they expect. Doesn’t stop me from feeling like a douche, though.

That night with Ari on the beach…hell. I run my hand down my face, as if I can clear away the memory that’s been tormenting me all week. But it’s a futile attempt. I’m thoroughly wrecked. I’ve never felt anything close to what I experienced with her. I’ve been racking my brain, searching my Writer’s Thesaurus, seeking the words to describe it:

Ardent. Impassioned. Intense. Otherworldly. Powerful.

However close they are, they don’t fully capture the intimacy that left me reeling.

From the second she pressed her soft lips to mine, she owned me. Entirely. And I was terrified. I clung to her, desperate to keep her bound to me, fearful of letting her go—because I knew the inevitable distance would shatter me.

I’m that pathetic, I know. Believe me, I’ve been trying to put it into a context with which I can downplay it and recover. I keep reminding myself of what Ari voiced with the roar of the ocean as our backdrop, the stars our only witness to what transpired. She very clearly stated that she couldn’t offer me more than that moment, but damn it to hell. It’s not enough, not by a long shot.

The low knock at my door draws me out of my dark thoughts, and I consider ignoring it. It’s probably one of the other guys, sent by Gavin to try to talk me into going out. But hanging around Gavin as he macks on Vee is just not how I want to spend my night.

Another knock, more assertive this time, and I’m pushing off my bed. Annoyed, I yank the door open, my mouth parted to spew bitter words ready on my tongue…and I nearly choke as I swallow them back. The sight in the hallway a kick to my gut.

Ari stands with a binder pressed to her chest. Her hair is pulled into a high ponytail, the ringlets cascading over one shoulder. She’s dressed in a soft black thermal that sets off her amber irises and a pale pink skirt that falls to her ankles. An ache hitches in my throat, hot and solid.

“Can I come in?” she asks, tightening her grip on the binder.

All words vacate my head. I’ve spent the past week restraining myself from making any contact—rushing her in the lunchroom, demanding she acknowledge what happened between us. Bursting into her lecture hall and announcing my feelings like in some cheesy ending to a movie. I kept my cool—difficultly—giving her the time she apparently needed, and finally, my reward is here. And I can’t think of a damn thing to say now that she’s right before me.

Jerking my head, I nod her inside. “Yeah. Come in.” Smooth. I’m impressed that I haven’t fallen to my knees and started groveling…but the night’s still young.

As she walks into my dorm room, she points toward my bed. “That yours?” I close the door and nod. She sets her binder down at the foot of the bed and then kicks off her shoes. Then she sits easily, as if her very presence isn’t turning me inside out.

I settle on the bed opposite her and bite down on my tongue. She came to me, and I want to keep the advantage—even if the ball is really in her court. Whatever she offers me, I know I’ll accept, like the desperate fool I am for her. God, I hate myself. But I can’t go back. She’s effectively possessed me; mind and soul.

“Since when do you wear glasses?” she says, tilting her head, giving me an appraising once over.

“Oh…I forgot.” I go to pull them off, but she’s off the bed and standing before me so quickly, my hand stills in the air.

“Don’t.” She takes my hand in hers. “I like them. I like seeing this side of you. It’s vulnerable.”

She has no idea
how
vulnerable. Her fingers lace through mine, and I tighten my hand around hers. Hell, but she didn’t have to say anything.

“I need them for reading,” I say as way of explanation. “And they make me look smart.”

She schools her features, betraying nothing of what she may be feeling, if anything. Then she reaches up and runs her fingers through my hair, sending a violent shudder through me. “You kept your word, and now Vee and Gavin are out on a date.” She laughs. “But really, they’ve been together just about all week. I’m so stupid happy for her. She’s beyond elated.”

Against every ounce of restraint, I allow my free hand to snake out and clasp the back of her thigh, keeping her from retreating. “He’s into her,” I say, forcing the words out past the hard knot in my throat. “So why are you here?”

And I could kick myself. I watch her face fall, shifting from ecstatic to wary in a beat. My grip tightens, bringing her between my parted knees, as I gaze up into her face.

A shaky breath slips past her glossy lips. “I said I would help you if you helped me…and I’m keeping my promise.” She nods to the binder on my bed. “If you don’t have any plans, I thought we could work on your story.”

Despite my attempt at cool and calm, composed and in control, I cannot help myself. “I’m more than willing to work on it all night with you,” I say, feeling a smile hike the corner of my mouth. Damn, but I’m me—what can I say? And I desire Ari more in this moment than any damned story.

My breath held, I wait for her reaction, and I’m rewarded with a throaty laugh instead of a reprimand. Making progress.

“Why didn’t I see that coming?” she says, rimming my frames with her finger.

This moment between us is tentative and slow. Us trying to find our rhythm. I want to demand answers—what we are, where we’re going—but I know better than to push her. She once demanded that of me, for me to make a promise of trust—to tell her I’d never hurt her—and I knew then that it was an impossible request. No one can make that vow.

And I can’t be a hypocrite and force her to assuage my insecurities now. If there’s any chance that this could turn into something more, then I have to give her the reins. Let it build at her pace. But damn, how I just want to grab her, toss her down on my bed, and ravage her until she concedes that she’s mine. All mine.

With a hard exhale that burns my chest, I say, “Yes, Ari. I want to make a story with you.” I let the connotation of my words linger in the air around us, filling the room with a heaviness, as I gently push her aside and stand to grab my laptop.

A
ri’s
laugh rolls over my skin, drenching me in chills, the sound clenching my stomach with desire. It’s pure agony.

She wipes the crease of her eye, her laugh fading. “Oh, my God. You cannot write that.”

Dragging my gaze away from Ari’s beautiful face, I shift my attention to the laptop screen before us. The last line of our story:
And then he does something to reinforce the Revenge theme
.

“Hey, my professor said to reiterate the theme. It doesn’t get more blunt than that,” I say, rolling onto my side to face her. We’re stretched out on my bed, lying side by side. The small span of distance between us thrums and crackles with tension. Like the force of a magnet as it’s held back from a link of chain, my body is dying to give in to the pull.

“Ryder, if we’re going to finish this at any decent hour”—she turns on her side to glower at me—“then we need to decide: does the hero take his revenge, or not succumb to his weakness?”

I study her face; the fullness of her lips over the slight cleft in her chin, the long, sweeping lashes brushing her high cheekbones. I could not care less about this story, but she’s sacrificed time to help me, so for her, I try to reel in my lust.

Removing my glasses, I clear my throat. “Is succumbing to doing what’s ultimately right a weakness?”

The smooth skin between her eyebrows furrows. “Is this really a revenge theme, or good versus evil?” She props the heel of her hand against her temple.

Attempting a shrug, I move an inch closer to her, laying my hand at the curve of her waist. “Don’t most themes have more than one subtheme? Can’t it be both?”

She laughs. “You’re being evasive because you don’t want to do the work.” She sighs, as if she’s irritated with me, but I can see she loves this. She’s brilliant, and it’s the surest I’ve ever seen her. Confident in herself. “The hero has to make a choice. It always boils down to that in any story. Whether it’s right or wrong…that really doesn’t matter, as long as he can justify his motives.”

“Do you really believe that?” I say, my whole body igniting with heat. Anticipation has me sliding her shirt up, splaying my fingers against her silky skin.

A trembling breath steals past her lips, and she says, “Yes.”

That’s all the permission I need.

It’s like a play being called; I’m spurred into motion by her soft assent, then my mouth is covering hers, stealing her breath, coveting her mouth. My fingers curl into the fabric of her thermal, and I pull her to me. As she winds an arm around my neck, she releases a low moan, and it vibrates through my chest.

Absentmindedly, I reach over and shut the laptop and push it aside. Then my hands are back on her, grabbing her thigh and dragging it over me, my whole body lit with yearning.

She turns her head to the side, gasping for air and breaking us apart. “Wait,” she pants. But I’m too far-gone. After confining myself for an entire week, trying to give her the space she apparently needed, I cannot rein in my need for her one second longer.

I move to her neck, kissing a blistering trail along her throat to her ear, and whisper, “Don’t fight us.”

This does not have the desired affect I’m aiming for. Ari pulls away and forces herself up. She turns away from me and faces the wall, her shoulders trembling with her heavy breaths. “God, Ryder. Why do you have to be so…you.”

Bringing myself into a sitting position behind her, I laugh. She groans. “Sorry, but is that the best you can do?” I run my hand along her arm, feeling the shiver my touch sends through her. “I know I’m…how did you put it?
Crass
. But I’m working on that. And I’m sick of pretending that last weekend didn’t mean anything.”

She shakes her head. “It can’t.”

Anger seizes my chest. I come up behind her, dropping my forearms on either side of her head and caging her in with my body. Her hands flatten along the wall, her body absorbing the impact of mine as I press against her. Lowering my mouth to her neck, I nip at her skin, taking in the sweet scent of her, running the length of my rock-hard erection along her ass. Letting her feel how badly she affects me—how much I want her,
us
.

“It did happen,” I say. “And you want me just as badly as I crave you, Ari.” I remove one arm from the wall and grasp her thigh. I pull her harder against me and yank the skirt up. The pad of my thumb skims over her underwear. A shudder nearly cripples me at the feel of her wetness dampening the material. Her heat radiating out against my hand. “Shit…you’re so wet for me. Say it’s all for me, Ari.”

A soft cry wrenches from her mouth, and her hips rock, grinding her ass against my cock and her pussy along my fingers. She turns her head to the side and bites down on my arm, eliciting a guttural roar from me. But the sharp pain only quickens my need, heating my blood.

“It’s all for you,” she breathes out. “But it’s going to kill me when I have to give you up.”

Her admission spears me. Through the lust-filled haze, an image surfaces: the charity event, her father’s disapproving glare. Then another invades my mind: her being
courted
by rich, powerful men that will try to buy her—to
own
her. I bite down hard on my lip and taste the metallic sting of blood, hating that I can’t change my roots. It’s the fear that’s steered me away from leaping my whole life; I’m not good enough.

That fear seizes me whole, making me desperate to lay claim to her. Pushing her underwear aside, I slide a finger between her folds, feeling her tightness clench around me. Her loud gasp reverberates through my whole body. I continue to caress her warm, slick flesh, working another finger inside, as she rocks against me. I only want to hear her whispered pleas for more, or cries of pleasure. Not her fears or doubts.

“I’m going to make love to you, over and over, until I’ve driven that stupid thought far the fuck away.” The words are ripped from my mouth in a carnal vow. Then I’m driving deeper inside her, forcing her so hard against me it’s painful, the friction against my dick.