Unraveled (Woodlands) (16 page)

Gray

B
UILDING
THE
SLIP
AND
SLIDE
had taken a couple of hours. The house had a long, fairly steep drive. We'd gone out this morning to the sporting goods store and bought seven king size air mattresses and several tent tarps, and a kid's bouncy house was in the process of being inflated at the bottom of the drive. The big motor required to inflate it was making it hard to hear, even at the top of the hill.

"You do this before?" I asked Bo as we surveyed our work. The mattresses had been laid end-to-end and covered much, but not all, of the drive. The pressure of one end of the mattress on the other was to keep them in place, like a stacked set of blocks. The tarps, which would ordinarily go beneath a tent, were stretched tautly across the top of the mattresses. Bo, Finn, Noah, and I had worked in pairs to drive in the stakes to hold down the tarps while Adam and Mal, the other two roommates, had made sure that the bouncy house was set up securely down at the base of the hill.

"Nope." Bo flipped the hammer in his hand. "Haul up the hoses." We'd also had to buy to extra hoses to make sure that we could hoist one to the top of the drive. The bill for all the supplies was astronomical, but Adam had paid without a blink. Bo told me in the car ride back that Adam's dad would think this was the best possible use of his money. I shrugged. Not my dime—and it did look fun as hell. We'd also bought a couple of gallons of baby oil.

Bo threw one at me. "Time to lube up. I'm sure you're familiar with this."

"Oh I am," I replied. "I always apply lube. It's the only way any chick can take my monster cock."

"Is that the pick-up line you're using now? Because it seems like you'd end up disappointing them when you get home."

"No girl has ever left my bed unsatisfied. That’s probably something you don't know a lot about."

"If you have to use lube, then I'm worried you don't know what you're doing in bed."

"Don't worry about me. I'm using lube because I'm going places no man has gone before."

"You're fucking their earhole?"

"Bo, I thought for sure we'd taught you a few things when you were in the service, but now it seems like you don't know your earhole from your asshole."

"That's not what AnnMarie was saying last night,” he said smugly.

"Actually, AnnMarie told me that she didn't realize dicks were longer than her hand and wondered if mine was bigger than average." I squirted more baby oil on the tarps. "I told her no, that you were just really small. Poor girl. Good thing she isn’t required to do a lot of math.”

Bo threw down his gallon container with a roar and dived across the mattresses and tarps to get at me, but I'd slicked the tarp with oil and he went sliding down. I bent over and laughed so hard I cried as he kept trying to climb up to get me and I kept squirting him with baby oil. Noah put an end to our fun when he came over with the hoses and sprayed us all down. I jumped onto the tarp belly first and rammed into Bo and gravity took us both to the bottom where we commenced wrestling.

Adam's shout to the top of the hill made me pause and look up. Bo took the opportunity to hit me. "Dammit, Bo, always when I'm not paying attention?"

"Pay attention then." He shoved my head down onto the tarp and got up. "One of these days you're going to fall hard for a girl and she's going to break your ever-loving heart."

"Been there, got the T-shirt. Never going back," I said as I popped up. Adam was hailing Sam. I ran up to the top of the hill, stripping off my oil-and-water-slicked T-shirt. I wasn't trying to look good for her—okay, maybe a little. I was panting and out of breath when I got to her, but I beat Adam by about ten feet.

"Sam, hey, long time," I said and rubbed the shirt on my oil-slicked hair. She reached up. I thought she was going to run her hands over my head, and I dipped my head forward in anticipation, but she didn't touch me. Instead, she drew back and showed me a blade of grass that must have stuck to my head when I was wrestling with Bo.

“Are you and Bo always fighting?” It wasn’t really a question but an observation, as if she’d encountered this type of male friendship before, and I suspected she had with Will. Before I could answer, though, Adam and the rest of the crowd had drawn level with us.

"Sam," Adam said, drawing Sam in for an easy hug. "I'm glad you stopped by. Finally taking me up on one of my offers.”

This sounded vaguely sexual and I frowned at Adam. He said he had no claim on Sam. Adam caught my stare and rolled his eyes. “Loosen up” he said silently. Rolling my shoulders, I tried to let go of the tension that had taken hold.

“How’s Finn doing?” Sam asked. Finn’s grandfather had died earlier in the spring.

"He's doing okay. He'll be glad to see you. I think you're the one person who gets what's going on in his head.” Adam took Sam by the shoulder and started walking her down the incline. The rest of their conversation was hard to hear as they merged with the larger crowd of people who'd gathered for an impromptu Friday pool party. I guess it was summer and no one had to work.

"Turn that frown upside down, Princess." Bo crept up on me. "She turn you down?"

"No." I said curtly.

"I keep telling you to save the 'let's go out for blood tests' until after the second date."

"You're an asshole, you know that right?"

"But a hot one,” he replied.

"If AnnMarie wasn't watching us right now looking like she'd stab me if I started whaling on you, I'd have my boot so far up your ass you'd be feeling it in your throat."

"I love it when you talk dirty to me."

"How is it that you screwed half the western seaboard and still came away clean?" I asked.

"Dunno, lucky, I guess?" Bo shrugged, unconcerned. Then he turned to me. "I was lucky. I know this. I should've been more careful and I admire that you take care of yourself and the girls you sleep with. It shows that you're far more decent than I am but I also think you use this whole STI and cheating thing as a way not to get involved. So you don't want to get involved right now? That’s all good, but don't do stuff to shoot yourself in the foot. You're better than that."

A heart-to-heart from Bo. My screw ups must have been more obvious than I'd wanted. "Let's talk about Noah and what his chances of winning his upcoming match are."

"Sure, don't want to talk about your feelings, that's fine. Just know that I'm getting it regular because I know what I'm talking about."

"Bullshit, you fool." I shook my head in mock disgust. "You're getting it regular because AnnMarie didn't see me first."

Bo grunted but we were back to our regularly scheduled insults which meant all was right in our world. That Sam hung out with Adam and Finn and looked happy and relaxed didn't bother me at all. That she came by and made casual small talk with me like there wasn't an electrical current that passed between us didn't faze me. That she looked hotter than a Sports Illustrated model in her two-piece bikini that showed off a pretty impressive set of legs, a perfect gap between her thighs, and a small-but-juicy rack didn't cause me to have to go inside and jack off in the bathroom. I just did it because that's what guys do. They jerk it while fantasizing about girls that they couldn't have, but wanted so goddamned bad.

I leaned my head against the bathroom door and then carefully cleaned myself up. “Gray Phillips, you are a stupid son of a bitch,” I declared to the mirror. Bo was right. I’d been fucked up bad by a girl and it was ruining me. After my impromptu bathroom session, I wasn't sure I was relieved or discouraged that Sam was still there. I found her in the kitchen and all the jerking in the world wasn’t going to solve my problem because I could feel a semi rising in my shorts just looking at her.

“Sam.” She jumped at my over-loud voice.

“God, you scared me.” She gave a nervous little laugh. Everyone else was still outside and for once, we were alone.

“About earlier,” I started but stopped when she raised her hand, palm facing me.

“You know what. It’s fine. I can see by the crowd that you have plenty of coffee offers to choose from.” She waved her hand, gesturing toward the front lawn where people were still making use of the makeshift slip and slide.

Coffee? Shit man, she was still upset about two fuckups ago, not the most recent one. I blew out a big breath. There was a mountain of apologies and explaining I was going to have to do to make this right.

“No, there was no rejection the other night,” I said firmly. The only way to salvage this was to make sure she understood that I still wanted her. “It was a delay. The coffee wasn’t in the right mug. I needed a different mug.”

“A different mug?” She looked at me like I was crazy—and maybe I was.

I drew a hand through my shorn hair. “Yes, the one we’d used felt like someone else had drank out of it.”

“Oh, so you need a perfectly new bed, or excuse me, mug for coffee every time you have it? Good luck with that.” Sam turned and began throwing open kitchen cabinets and them slamming the doors shut. I knew she wanted me to leave, but I wasn’t going anywhere. “I mean, how many new mugs do you offer to girls you invite over for coffee?”

“A lot fewer than you seem to think, but it just looked like you weren’t ready to have coffee.”

“Wasn’t ready? I was climbing you like a pole in the hallway of the bar and even after you accused me of cheating, I stupidly issued you another invitation. I’ve never been so ready for coffee!” she shouted at me.

“I know. And I’m sorry. I want your coffee. Bad,” I pleaded.

“Well,” she huffed. “You aren’t getting any.” She slammed the last cupboard closed and stomped out.

When dusk had fallen and Adam and Finn had fired up the grill, I'd made up my mind. She needed to give me one more chance. I’d show her exactly what I was feeling. People surrounded us and there wasn't any good way for me to extricate her from Adam's side. But when everyone gathered around the fire pit, he couldn’t sit in both chairs beside her so I sat on her right before anyone else could. I’d convince her somehow that I wanted her more than anything and that all the shit she had in her condo and the jewelry she wore didn’t matter. Around the patio, the after-dinner conversation turned to zombie survivalist techniques.

"If we did live in a post-apocalyptic world, people who worked with their hands would have a better chance of survival,” Bo said. "So Noah, Gray, and I are going to be around." I think that was Bo's weak wingman attempt. Hook up with Gray, he'll save you if the zombies come after you. I wasn’t sure that was helpful since we weren’t even close to needing to jump someone’s bones for survival’s sake.

"Hey, I can kill a few with my instruments. Drumsticks or the broken throat of the guitar is going to do some damage,” Adam protested.

Sam offered her up her own viability. "Then I'd be a valuable asset. I could skewer people with my needles and knit clothes out of fibers."

"Okay, you're in," I said immediately. She cocked her head and gave it a shake like she couldn't figure me out. I was going to make it clear to her that I was interested even if I couldn't get her alone.

"What about the repopulation of the human race?" a dark-haired girl with a ruffly swimsuit that barely covered her impressive knockers said coyly.

"Do you need some instruction? I can help out," another guy joked. I kept my eyes on Sam to see if she was interested in anyone else in the group. Her eyes were pinned on a square patch of concrete between her feet.

The girl scoffed. "I don't need instruction. I'm already amazing." She stretched her arms and the move showcased her admittedly perfect form to all those around.

"That's what they all say," muttered the guy who'd been rejected.

"Oh yeah? What makes a girl good in bed then?"

This time Sam spoke up. “Yeah, Gray, what makes a girl good in bed?”

Her eyes held a glittering challenge and everything, including the meat between my legs, rose up to meet it. I jumped in, feet first, without a chute. I'd either catch the wind or smash to the ground, but she was giving me an opening whether she knew it or not. “Enthusiasm,” I responded without delay.

"She's there, doesn't that mean she wants it?" Sam said softly.

I shook my head, staring at her hard. "It's not the same thing. When you’re going down on her, she lets you know how good it feels by telling you, grabbing your head, squeezing her legs together. When you’re inside of her, she's squeezing the shit out of your piece and milking every last orgasm out of you. Guys want to see and hear and feel how hot she is for you."

"Sounds exhausting," said someone else. "What makes a guy good in bed?”

"Someone who’s paying attention.” My gaze was fixed on Sam.

"That's it?" she asked.

"Yup. Every time I touch a girl, I'm cataloguing the sounds she makes, the clenching of her muscles, how wet she is getting. It's my responsibility to make sure that she is wetter than an April shower and I do that by paying attention.”

“But you like your girls pure, right?” Sam asked sarcastically. “Virgins only?”

I shook my head. “No, absolutely not. I don't care how many partners she’s had before me so long as I’m the only one in the bedroom with her at the moment. I gotta know she’s with me every step.”

"What's your favorite position?" someone called out.

"Reverse cowgirl, am I right, ladies?" Two girls across from us high-fived. Sam shifted next to me and I waited for her to jump in but she remained stubbornly silent. The only female I wanted to know about decided she wouldn't share her opinion.

"What about you?" one of them asked.

"I like ‘em all.” Was this working at all? Or was I just making a fool of myself, trying to look boss in front of Sam? We stared at each other but I saw nothing in her eyes but a reflection of the firelight.

"But a favorite."

Without looking away, I answered the question. “The ol’ missionary is a good one. You can stare into her eyes the entire time and if you hold her legs in the right position, you can hit the A-spot."

"You mean G-spot."