Naked Edge (11 page)

“Soft food?” It sounds more like ‘thof foo.’ Rowdy closes his eyes and groans.

Dr. Maxwell chuckles. “You let me poke and prod a lateral luxation without complaint, but the thought of a restricted diet makes you whine?”
 

Rowdy rolls his eyes then points at my chest. “Smoothies. Lots and lots of smoothies.”

It takes a second for my brain to decipher his impaired speech. But when it does, I know exactly what he wants.

“Chocolate, banana and peanut butter?” Aunt Lori used to make smoothies for all of us when we were kids. Rowdy was the only one that liked peanut butter in his.
 

He grins and nods. “Lots of peanut butter.”

“You got it.” The lump in my throat swells. Not only is it obvious that Rowdy’s forgiven me for practically knocking his tooth out, he’s going to let me take care of him.
 

Since we’re already in Boulder, Rowdy insists I drop him off to get his car.
 

The storm blows itself out before we get back to the house. Rowdy parks behind me then jogs to Boone’s car and opens my door. The clean scent of rain and pine is a welcome change to the usual dust.
 

When we get inside, I notice that Boone is no longer in the recliner. I follow Rowdy upstairs, admiring the view of his muscular butt. He walks past Boone’s closed door and leans against the wall next to my room, feet spread a few inches more than shoulder width apart.
 

I hope he doesn’t think he’s going to be spending the night in my bed. I’d love to fall asleep wrapped up in his arms, but I don’t trust myself.
 

He hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his sweats, tugging them dangerously low. His fingers fan out over his hip bones. “Do I get a goodnight kiss?”

“Are you sure you want one?” Not only did I mess up his tooth, I also split his lip.

“I want a lot more, but I’ll settle for a kiss.” He takes my wrists and leads me into the space between his legs, placing my hands on his chest. His heart thumps against my palm. It’s beating almost as fast as mine. He grabs my ass and pulls me closer. The evidence of just how much more he wants presses against my stomach, causing every muscle below my waist to clench. His gaze drops to my breasts. I’m sure he’s getting an eyeful. I can feel my nipples straining against the thin fabric of my t-shirt.
 

My knees turn to jello. I slide down his body. Not far, just a couple of inches, but that slight amount of friction triggers a needy whimper.

Rowdy growls in response. His abs contract as he sucks in a breath through his teeth.
 

I try to pull back, but he holds my hips in place, digging his fingers into my ass. He slips one hand under my shirt and skims the surface of my ribs with his fingertips. The heel of his palm brushes against the side of my breast.

I want him to touch me. Desperately. It’s all I can do to keep from turning into him. Both of us are trembling, now.
 

I’m not a virgin. We’ve made love before. He wants me. I want him. This shouldn’t be such a big deal. But it is.

I stare into Rowdy’s eyes and remember how I used to see love and adoration reflected there. A mirror of my own feelings. Now, all I see is lust. His and mine. It’s a raw, animal hunger, demanding and reckless.
 

This is not what I want. My body disagrees. But if I let Rowdy use me, the way he’s used all those other girls, I’m afraid I’ll lose him forever. I’d rather free solo every route on The Redgarden Wall than risk that. “Rowdy, stop.”
 

He freezes then slowly slides his hand out of my shirt, tracing the same path as before, only in reverse.
 

“I’m sorry.”

He gently pushes my hips away from his then drops his hands. “Me too.”
 

I can tell from his tone of voice that he’s not apologizing. He’s just sorry I stopped him.

In all the time we were together, he never once made me feel guilty for slowing things down. The night we made love, he kept stopping to ask me if I was sure. I was then. I’m not now.

Rowdy wraps his fingers around my upper arms and moves me to the side so he can step away from the wall. He leans in.
 

My pulse throbs in my neck as I lift my chin and close my eyes. His warm breath caresses my face. I lick my lips and silently remind myself to be gentle.

He presses his cheek against mine and whispers, “Goodnight, Skylar,” then disappears into Boone’s room.

I feel like a dick for not kissing Sky goodnight, but she’s the one that wants to take things slow. If I withhold what she wants, it might motivate her to speed things up a bit. Yep, I’m definitely a dick.
 

Skylar’s always looked at the world through rainbow-colored glasses. She needs to see me as I really am. Not as the kid I used to be. That boy died when my mother did.

I head to the bathroom for another shower. This will be the third one today, but if I don’t rub one out, I’ll wake up with a bad case of blue balls in the morning. Or end up having a wet dream in Boone’s spare bed. I doubt he’d appreciate that.
 

My earlier shower dissipated the light scent of Skylar’s organic body wash. It reminds me of apples, but that’s not quite it. There’s also a hint of something earthy and green. Whatever it is, my dick sure as fuck likes it. I check the label. It’s chamomile. I should have taken care of business the first time I was in here, but I didn’t want to act like a perv, jerking off with her in the next room. Nothing’s changed, except the intensity of my desperation.
 

I put Boone’s bloodstained t-shirt in the sink to soak then step into the tub and pull the shower curtain closed. Skylar’s shampoo, conditioner and body wash are tucked into the back corner. I pop open the cap of her body wash and take a whiff. My eyes roll into the back of my head.
Fuuuck.
 

I’m tempted to squirt a tiny amount into my palm, but that’s crossing a line too pervy even for me. I grab the bar of goat milk soap off the wire rack hanging from the shower head and lather up. I take my throbbing dick with my right hand and press my left fist against my mouth to stifle the groans, but change my mind when my mouth explodes in pain.
 

I’ll just have to try to control myself and hope Skylar and Boone can’t hear me over the rush of water. I force my eyes open so I can stay aware of my surroundings and remember to be quiet. But even with my eyes open, I still see Skylar’s face…the flush on her skin…the lust in her eyes. I still feel the way her body trembles against mine. I still hear her desperate whimpers. I still smell the delicious scent of her dark brown hair.

My body shudders as I spasm, coming harder than I have in a long time.

A quiet knock on the door startles me. I cut off the shower.

“Rowdy?” Skylar sounds worried. “Are you okay?”
 

Guess I wasn’t as quiet as I thought. “I’m fine.”

“It sounds like you’re in a lot of pain. Do you need some Tylonal or Advil for your tooth?”

“I’m just a little sore.” I brace one hand against the tile wall and cringe. Could I sound any more pathetic?

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do for you?”

I grab the same damp towel I used earlier today and rub it over my body. “Go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

I wait until I hear her door creak shut before heading back to Boone’s room. He’s in bed, but not asleep.
 

“So. What’s going on with you and Skylar?”

“We’re taking things slow.”
 

“Anna didn’t seem to think so.”

“You heard that, huh?” Boone was in the family room with the TV on when Anna arrived. His ears must be better than mine.

“Dude. I’m pretty sure the entire town heard. That girl’s a whack job.”

“Hey.”

“Just saying.”

“You don’t know her like I do. She had a really rough childhood.”

“So did you, but I don’t see you blowing up and attacking people for no reason.”

“I almost punched Wade Summers in the jaw tonight.”

“What!” Boone rolls onto his side and props his head up with his elbow. “Why?”

“He was trying to keep me away from Skylar.” I can’t believe I’m spilling my guts to Boone. We used to be as close as brothers, but that changed when I started fucking around with girls and drinking. Boone’s no boy scout. He’s had his share of one-night stands and if the recycle bin in the kitchen is any indicator, he’s going through at least a six-pack a day of Coors. But he doesn’t think I’m good enough for his cousin. I’m not, but it still pisses me off.

Boone’s voice drops. “I told Wade to ask Skylar out.”

I take a deep, calming breath before I open my mouth and say something I’ll regret. “Why?”

“Skylar’s stuck in the past. She still believes the two of you have a shot at making it work.”

“And you don’t?” Anger simmers under my skin, itching and burning like poison ivy.

Boone sits up and tucks a pillow under his broken foot. “Wade is more like you were four years ago than you are. He and Skylar make more sense than the two of you. If you’re ready to settle down and try to have a real relationship with one girl, you should consider Anna.”

“God, Boone. She’s my sister.” I’ll never settle down with just one girl. Unless it’s Skylar. That realization sucker punches me in the gut.

“Anna’s just your step-sister. There’s no reason you two can’t hook up.”

“Anna and I have no interest in hooking up with each other.”

“Are you blind? Anna’s been drooling over you for years.”

“You’re delusional.”

“Anna wants you and she’ll do whatever it takes to get rid of the competition.”

“Anna knows how hard it was for me to get over Skylar. She doesn’t want to see me get hurt again. That’s all.”

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Over Skylar?”

I want to say
hell yeah,
but Boone’s got some sort of internal bullshit detector. He can always tell when someone is lying. “I thought I was.”

“You remember what I said about hurting her?”

“Yeah, I remember.”
 

“I meant every word.”

After tossing and turning most of the night, I wake up a little after six. My skin feels too tight for my body and it has nothing to do with the dry climate.
 

I’m a little irritated with Rowdy for not kissing me goodnight. Okay, that’s a lie. I’m not irritated. I’m flat-out pissed. What was that all about anyway? Is he punishing me because I won’t have sex with him? Does he think I’m enjoying this?
 

If people could die from sexual frustration, I’d be dead. I’m twenty years old and have never had an orgasm. Something I never should have confessed to Ethan. I was trying to make him feel better about not ‘meeting my needs,’ but instead he became obsessed with the idea of being my ‘first.’
 

I think I’ve been close a couple of times. When Rowdy and I used to make out, I’d get this intense feeling deep inside my lower belly. But Rowdy always stopped and asked if I was okay.

Ugh. Just thinking about it is making me horny. I’m tempted to try to take care of it myself, but that’s never worked either. All it does is frustrate me. I need to get out of this house. A long run up the canyon might help.

I take my morning dose of Advair then head for the bathroom. Boone’s door creaks open. I know it’s not Boone. It’s too early.

“Morning.” Rowdy’s voice is deeper, huskier and sexier than it was last night. He’s wearing the same sweats he had on yesterday, but no shirt. The V cut of his sculpted abs draws my gaze lower.

“Sorry.” I lick my lips and swallow, trying not to drool. “I was trying to be quiet.”

“You didn’t wake me up.” He yawns and stretches, expanding his already broad chest. “I’m still an early riser.”

I can’t keep from grinning. It may seem insignificant, but it’s one more thing I can add to my small list of things about Rowdy that haven’t changed.

“Do you want to go out for breakfast?” Rowdy runs a hand over his tousled hair, creating even more disarray.
 

“Actually, I was thinking about going for a run.”

“Do you want some company?”

Running with Rowdy won’t do much for my sexual frustration situation. Just the thought of his bare chest, gleaming with sweat, makes me squeeze my thighs together. But I’m a glutton for punishment. “Sure.”

After hitting the bathroom, I duck back into my room and throw on a pair of sweatpants, a sports bra and a tank top. If I were going by myself, I’d wear my skimpy, little running shorts, but I don’t want to make things harder for Rowdy. I snicker at the unintentional innuendo and decide to go with the shorts anyway. He deserves a little torture for teasing me last night.
 

I grab my rescue inhaler and my running shoes. Rowdy’s already outside, leaning against Boone’s car. His eyes darken as his gaze roams over my body.
 

I fold my arms across my chest to hide my puckered nipples.
 

Rowdy smirks as if he believes he won this round. “Do you mind if we jog down to my house so I can grab a pair of shorts?”

“Whatever.” Game on, buster.

He pushes off the car. “In fact, go grab a swimsuit. We can cool off in the pool after our run.”

I roll my one-piece racing suit up in a towel and stuff it inside my day pack, along with my wallet, a bottle of sunscreen and a tube of Burt’s Bees lip balm.

Rowdy’s house is less than a mile from Boone’s and it’s downhill all the way, but I’m sweating like a pig and wheezing before we’re halfway there. I’m also praying that Anna’s already left for work.
 

Rowdy—who doesn’t have so much as a drop of sweat on his honey-hued skin—stops and insists I use my inhaler before we go any further. At this rate, I’m going to run out of Albuterol before the month is up. It’s not as expensive as Advair, but it’s not cheap.

Rowdy’s house is tiny. I’m surprised that four people can live together in such a small space without killing each other. Instead of going to the front door, Rowdy stops next to the detached garage. “Do you want to come in or wait out here?”