Going Under (19 page)

“Why?”

“Because I’m so drawn to you and I really
don’t know anything about you. Is it just your looks?” I asked.

“Is it?”

I shook my head. “No, I don’t think so. I
think there’s a lot more, but you’re not telling me.”

Ryan rubbed his jaw. “I’m a Big Brother,” he
offered after a moment.

“I know that. I’ve met Kaylen.”

“No,” he laughed. “For the Boys and Girls
Club.”

“Ohhh. They take people that young?” I
asked.

“Well, not usually, but I was pretty
insistent. That, and I had a few strings pulled.”

“Why?” I asked.

He shook his head and grinned. “Because I’m
trying to be a better person, Brooke.”

So was I. I almost said it out loud, but I
didn’t want him to ask me how or why I was trying to be better.

“What? You’ve got sins to atone for?” I
asked lightly.

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“Most people just pray,” I said. “Doesn’t
take as much effort as volunteer work.”

Ryan chuckled at my irreverence. “Praying
only goes so far, I think,” and I chuckled at his.

“So tell me about your Little Brother,” I
said and patted the bed, inviting him to join me.

“His name’s Chester,” Ryan replied, sitting
down.

“Okay. That’s not a name,” I said.

Ryan laughed. “Well, for this kid it
is.”

I nodded, wanting him to continue.

“He’d be considered your typical white trash
kid. Ten years old. So-so home life. I tutor him a lot and take him
for pizza. He loves pizza. He wants to join the Marines when he
grows up, and I asked him why the Marines and not some other branch
of the military.”

“And?”

“His father was a Marine,” Ryan said. “He
died a few years back.”

“Oh.”

“He’s a pretty good kid. I got on to him,
though, when I found out he got in a fight at school.”

“You sound like you really enjoy doing
this,” I said.

“I do. I mean, it can get exhausting, and
sometimes I don’t wanna hang out, but I’m so glad when I do because
he seems genuinely happy to see me. His favorite is kicking around
the soccer ball. He wants to play in middle school,” Ryan said.

“You play soccer?”

“Used to. Tore up my leg pretty badly last
year, so I quit. The doctors said I was okay to play, but I didn’t
want to risk damaging it more.”

“Don’t trust doctors?”

“Don’t trust anyone, really,” he said.

“Do you trust me?” I asked.

“I don’t know you,” he said.

“I know.” My face fell, and I thought it was
a stupid reaction. Of course he didn’t know me. Did I expect him to
trust a person he didn’t know?

Yes.

“But yes. I do. I don’t know why but I do
trust you,” Ryan said.

My face lit up. I could feel it, and
suddenly I didn’t want to talk anymore. I didn’t think Ryan wanted
to either. I wanted to feel his mouth on mine, and I wanted to let
him kiss me for as long as he liked.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and
buried my face in his neck. It was unexpected. I had every
intention of going for his lips, but a sudden urge to hug him
overpowered my desire for a kiss.

I inhaled his scent, that deep masculine
smell of soap mixed with . . . something. His essence, perhaps. I
breathed it in like oxygen, a faint sweetness that made me want to
lick him. That shocked me. I wanted to lick his neck. I couldn’t
stop myself. I slipped my tongue out ever so slightly—just the
tip—and tasted him.

I drew back and looked at him, embarrassed.
“I don’t know why I did that.”

“Did what?” he asked. “Hug me?”

“No, the other thing.”

“What other thing?”

I was confused. “You didn’t feel it?”

“Feel what?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Ryan said. “What are you
talking about?”

I blushed and looked down at my lap. “I kind
of licked your neck.”

“You kind of licked my neck?” Ryan asked,
grinning.

“Does that make me weird?” I said.

“Not in the least,” and he leaned over,
burying his face in my neck, and ran his tongue slowly all the way
from the base to right behind my earlobe.

I squealed.

“Good squeal or bad squeal?” he asked, mouth
pressed against my ear.

“Good squeal.” I don’t even know how I got
out the words. I was out of breath from shock.

Ryan pulled away and looked at me. “I think
we need to—”

Anything!
I screamed inside.
I’ll
do anything you want!

“—play some video games,” he said.

Excuse me?

My face must have said it all because Ryan
burst out laughing.

“Not a gamer?” he asked.

“I don’t even know how to hold the
controller,” I replied.
Just make out with me!

“I’ll teach you,” he offered, and jumped up
from the bed to turn on his TV and Playstation.

I didn’t know what he was up to. I felt the
sexual energy coursing through him when his tongue made contact
with my neck. I’m not sure why he was trying to fight it, if that’s
what he was doing. What was so wrong with kissing, anyway? We’d
already done it.

“Come here,” Ryan said, and I slunk off the
bed halfheartedly to sit next to him on the floor. “No, not there.
Here,” he said, pointing to the space between his legs.

Oh, so
that’s
what he was up to.

I nestled between his legs, leaning against
his chest as he leaned against the foot of his bed. He gave me the
controller, then placed his hands over mine so I was trapped in
what I later told Gretchen was the Gamers Embrace. He walked me
through each button and how and when to use them. Then he asked me
if I was interested in killing some bad guys.

“I have a feeling I’m gonna be really bad at
this,” I said, feeling my heartbeat increase. It was ridiculous,
but I was nervous, and not because I was sitting in such an
intimate position with Ryan. I was scared of the freaking game.

“You’ll do just fine,” he said, and pressed
the X on the controller. The game started, and I squealed.

“You like to squeal,” Ryan observed,
watching me die in the first few seconds.

“What is this game?”

“Oh, Brooke. You’re such a girl,” Ryan said,
and I instantly thought of Terry saying those same words when he
described Fantasy Football for me. I squirmed. “This is
Call of
Duty
. Freaking amazing game.”

“It’s scary,” I said. “I don’t think—”

“You’re doing just fine,” Ryan reassured
me.

I didn’t think I was doing “just fine” at
all. I think I sucked. Big time. How could a painter have no
hand-eye coordination? I think at one point I made my guy walk on
the ceiling.

I laughed when I died again. But I had to
admit that I was starting to get hooked. It didn’t even take that
long. Yes, I was still afraid of the bad guys. I didn’t like
rounding corners, but each time I died, I was determined to try
again. And I started getting better with the controller. Suddenly
it became an extension of my hands, just like my paintbrush.

“That’s right, bitch!” I yelled when I
killed my first enemy.

Ryan laughed. I hadn’t noticed his hands on
the tops of my thighs when we started, but I definitely noticed
them when they spread my legs apart ever so slightly. Did I mention
I was still in my work uniform?

I put down the controller immediately, and
died in two seconds.

“What did you do that for?” Ryan asked into
my neck. He rained sweet little pecks all over my goose-rippled
flesh.

“I can’t concentrate,” I breathed, closing
my eyes.

He took his mouth away, and I wanted to
scream at him to kiss me again.

“Pick up the controller, Brooke,” he said.
“And play your game.”
Meanwhile, I’m going to play mine
, is
what I’m sure I heard underneath his words.

I did as I was told, but my heart was no
longer in it. I didn’t care about killing bad guys when I felt
Ryan’s hands glide up and down my thighs, pushing my dress around
my hips. I knew he could see my panties, but for some reason I
didn’t think I should say it. I thought I had only one task he’d
given me, and that was to continue playing my game.

I drew in my breath sharply when I felt his
fingers snake around my right thigh and between my legs. He ran
them lightly over my panties, all the while watching the television
screen. I knew he was watching it because he gave me some advice
and a few warnings of enemies hidden in dark places.

When he slipped his fingers under the fabric
of my panties, I died. Shot up in a hailstorm of gun fire. My guy
didn’t have a chance.

“Try again,” Ryan cooed in my ear. He
stroked me gently, refraining from slipping his finger inside of
me.

“I don’t want to,” I whined softly.

“Brooklyn, try again,” he ordered, and I
pressed the X on the controller.

I tried to concentrate. I thought that’s
what he wanted me to do, to see how long I could go before losing
myself completely to his touch. We were playing two games,
competing against one another, and I knew I’d lose.

I cried out when he slipped a finger inside
me, lasting only five more seconds until I was blown to bits.

“I’m really bad at this,” I said. I didn’t
recognize my voice. It was deep and sultry.

“No you aren’t,” Ryan whispered, stroking me
deeply until I moaned and let my head fall back on his shoulder.
“No, Brooklyn. Pick up the controller and try again.”

“Ryan!” I was beyond frustrated, and I
screamed that frustration when he took his hand away.

“Play your game, Brooklyn,” he insisted,
shifting behind me. Only then did I notice his hard-on. I shivered
with anticipation.

I reluctantly started another game, and
almost immediately, Ryan’s hand was in between my legs once more,
touching, exploring, probing. I was aching for release, and he knew
it. The longer he played with my body, the worse I got at the
stupid video game. I felt the pleasure swirl around the insides of
my thighs and my stomach. I knew it was coming. But I also knew I
would hover on the edge of my orgasm indefinitely if I didn’t
concentrate on Ryan’s touch. My brain couldn’t stay split in two
between his hand and my game.

The explosion was nearly there, so I focused
on what was happening between my legs instead of the TV screen.
When he finally released me, I screamed something between pleasure
and agony, my finger permanently pressed on the button that made my
guy fire incessant shots until his ammo ran out and he surrendered
to the enemy.

I lay back against Ryan’s chest, my head
heavy on his shoulder. I was sweating and shaking from the
aftermath. I’d never come like that. I didn’t know what to say. I
wasn’t sure how I sounded when he brought me over the edge, and
suddenly I felt self-conscious.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever
seen,” Ryan said. He lifted his fingers to his mouth, and while I
couldn’t see him, I knew he was tasting me. My self-consciousness
multiplied tenfold. Did he like it?

“I’m embarrassed,” I admitted.

“Why?”

“Because I think I sounded crazy,” I
said.

“No. Not crazy. Perfect.” He planted a
gentle kiss on my cheek. “And you taste delicious, by the way.
Scrumptious, really.”

And just like that, my self-consciousness
disappeared. I sat up and turned around, pulling my legs up under
me. “Scrumptious, you say?”

Ryan nodded, his blue eyes soft and glassy.
Content.

“I think I like playing video games,” I
said.

“Oh, you do, huh?” he asked.

I nodded, looking down at his lap then back
up at his face.

“I think you should play this next round,” I
suggested. My hands went to his belt buckle.

He shook his head. I furrowed my brows,
confused.

“You’re new at video games, Brooke,” Ryan
said. “Let’s just take it little by little.”

I thought for a moment.

“Yeah, but doesn’t practice make perfect?” I
asked.

“In small doses.”

Twelve

“Holy shit!” Gretchen screamed into the
phone.

I grinned, lying on my bed in a dreamy
state, staring at the ceiling. My popcorn ceiling, and I thought it
was the most beautiful ceiling in the world.

“Brooke, why on earth didn’t you guys have
sex?” she asked.

“He said we weren’t ready,” I replied, the
silly smile still plastered on my face.

“What? Does he think you’re a virgin or
something?”

“I don’t know. I don’t care,” I replied. I
had been in a continuous euphoric state since yesterday afternoon.
My dad noticed last night over dinner, and asked me if I was dating
Ryan.

“How do you know I like him?” I had
asked.

“It’s painfully obvious, Brooke,” Dad
replied. “You think I’m an idiot?”

I grinned. “Are you okay with it if I do
date him? I mean, we haven’t established anything yet.”

“Yes,” Dad replied, and that word heightened
my ecstasy.

I listened as Gretchen peppered me with
questions.

“Are you two dating?” she asked.

“No.”

“Will you?”

“I hope.”

“When can I meet him?”

“Soon.”

“Was he better than Finn?”

Silence.

“Oh God, Brooke. I’m sorry,” Gretchen said.
“That was a really stupid thing to say.”

My euphoria started fizzling, and I was
pissed.

“Brookey?” Gretchen asked tentatively.

“He’s nothing like Finn,” I said.

“I know. I shouldn’t have asked that. It
just slipped out. You know how I don’t think sometimes.”

I grunted and sat up in bed.

“Are you totally pissed?” Gretchen
asked.

“No.”

Gretchen didn’t believe me. I could tell by
her next statement.

“You wanna just talk later?” she asked. I
could tell she was itching to get off the phone.