Wet: Part 2 (6 page)

“Tough as nails,” he mouthed.

“Not stiff!” she mouthed back. “I remember that much.”

“Me too, but remind me again.”

She yielded with a grin and folded herself backward, giving him his wish. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him, touching, hip to hip. He grinned wickedly as she righted herself, finishing face-to-face.

“That doesn’t feel like pretending.” No humor showed on her face.

“Girls pretend that better than boys.”

She tried to put some space between them, but he held her without breaking eye contact.

“I thought we were dancing. I can’t shimmy if you won’t let go.”

“You have a point.” He still didn’t let her move away. “I know how to dance, but you’re the best dancer I’ve ever seen. I just hope I don’t kill us trying to keep up with you.”

“I’ll hold back.”

“No, don’t. Well, maybe a little, unless you want to humiliate me, and I’m sorry, but I won’t be throwing in all the hip wiggles and wrist flicks that make Christian a better dancer than I.”

“Spoil-sport.” He released her hips and she started moving to the song. “Ready?”

“Oh yeah.” He twirled her and the music carried her away.

By the time the song ended, they’d attracted the attention of almost everyone at the party, but they kept on dancing through several calmer songs.

“Where did you learn to dance?” Paul pulled her in to dance the way you would for a slow song, even though it wasn’t.

“I just always knew how. As a kid, a bunch of us, other little girls in the neighborhood, we spent our time on each other’s front lawns running through the sprinklers, learning how to do cartwheels and worked up from there. We used to pretend we were competing at the Olympics and we danced.” She giggled. “In high school, I joined a dance club. We met in the choir room after school, a couple of times a week, making up dance routines and teaching each other moves we learned somewhere else.

“Occasionally we performed at school assemblies, or at halftime, but I’d get so nervous, performances made me sick. I didn’t know alcohol cured stage fright.” She laughed. “It would have helped in college too. I took some belly dancing classes. That was fun, but quite intimidating. Our finals—the teacher made us perform a recital—solo, and in a Bedleh, those skimpy Aladdin-ish costumes.”

“Mm!” he grunted and flashed his eyebrows up with approval. “Still have one?”

“A Bedleh?”

“Uh-huh.”

“No, thank goodness. I see the look on your face.” He seemed more than pleased with the way she danced with him at the moment. Noticing only made her self-conscious, and she took it down a notch.

He pulled her closer and rubbed noses briefly, gazing at her. His eyes reminded her of the night he kissed her in her bedroom, making her nervous again. She glanced down.

“Don’t,” he whispered, but she couldn’t look back up. “Look at me. It’ll be okay.”

He hugged her so her cheek pressed against his chest and she could hear his heart beating, slow and steady. It always made her feel better for some reason. At night, when she had nightmares, his heartbeat, as she rested her head on his chest, helped her relax. He kissed the top of her head.

“Do you realize how much that helps, or is it just a lucky coincidence?”

“What helps?”

“You resting my head against your chest when I’m nervous or upset.”

“I’ve picked up on a few things.” He squeezed her tighter.

The next song played slow and beautiful.
“Everything”
by Lifehouse. Mitch dragged Shanni onto the dance floor and began dancing amorously next to them. Rhees squeezed her eyes shut, knowing the time had come to get serious. Paul pulled her chin up and gave her a reassuring smile. His right eye winked and his mouth twitched a few times, surprising her to think he could possibly be nervous too.

“Put your arms around my neck,” he coached.

She took a deep breath, let it out, and snaked her arms up over his shoulders, around his neck. Both of his hands moved around her waist, and they swayed together, smoothly, back and forth. He kissed her, quick and easy, once, and then proceeded to kiss her the way she’d coached him. It made them both laugh for a second, but then it wasn’t funny anymore.

Paul stared into her eyes, the intense blue kept her focused, and she actually didn’t mind—knowing the goal—until she realized he was only getting started.

He kissed her again, but no longer took his time. He pulled on her, caressed her, and worked his way up to pawing. Every time, just before she reached her limit, tensed and squirmed, he slowed down, reminded her to look into his eyes. He talked to her, soothed her, giving her a chance to recover before he resumed, but there was no mistaking, she felt his growing desire pressing against her—he took pleasure in the performance.

“This is going to be
our
song,” he whispered, and kissed her again, tongue first.

“You really know how to pretend to be romantic.” She felt jittery.

“Mechanics,” Paul corrected. “It’s not romantic,
He’s
just turned on.
He
knows what he wants and I know how to get it for him.”

“Oh.” How could she fault him for his honesty? “Well, sorry, but it helps me to think in terms of romance.”

“Pfft!” He paused to look at her, concern in his expression. “It’s time to make our exit, but Rhees . . .” He hesitated. “You need to be extra careful tonight once we leave here.” He kissed her again, very passionately, and he sighed. “I’m sorry, but I’m—I’m worried that when we no longer have witnesses—I’ve never practiced a lot of restraint. Do you understand?”

She nodded, but she wished he hadn’t said anything. It only made her worry more. He tightened his hold on her and buried his nose in her hair. He inhaled, kissed her again, mercilessly. He grabbed her butt with both hands and rubbed himself against her with a gratified groan.

She gave him a bug-eyed look, letting him know she knew he was taking advantage of the situation.

“I doubt I’ll ever get another chance to get away with anything like this again.” He bit his bottom lip and pressed against her once more before giving her a wanton wink. She gasped quietly at his shameless groping.

“Sorry, I’m a better actor than
He
is.
He
believes in me, so when he figures out this is just pretend, he’s going to throw a tantrum.”

It was only fair to pay him back. She rolled up on her toes, and skimmed his Adam’s apple with her teeth.

“Mm!” she grunted, imitating what he always did when he kissed her. She watched his eyes grow wide and his mouth break into a wide, brilliant smile.

“Don’t forget what I said.” He rested his hand on her cheek, letting it sink in before taking her hand. “Let’s go.”

He turned to leave, but a fist to his face stopped him cold. Rhees screamed as Paul dropped to the floor. Her hands flew to her mouth in alarm and she looked to see who’d punched him. The other people on the dance floor had scattered in shock, giving Paul, Rhees, and the culprit a wide berth.

“Dobbs!” she yelled.

Dobbs stood over Paul, his hands fisted. “Get up! Get up now, so I can hit you again!” A scene flashed through Rhees’ frenzied mind—Paul got up, and Dobbs wound up in the hospital. She couldn’t let that happen.

She slammed Dobbs with both hands against his chest. “What. The. Fuck. Dobbs?” Her shrill voice enunciated each word for emphasis.

Dobbs gawked at her for a second, clearly confused. He finally pointed a finger at Paul, who still sat sprawled on the floor.

“Why? You selfish bastard! Why couldn’t you just leave her alone—you don’t have to sleep with every woman on the planet. Not her.”

Paul rose up on an elbow, rubbing the jaw on his left side, staring at Rhees. Her reaction appeared to have shocked him. He finally managed to stagger to his feet, about to retaliate, but he had to pull his punch when Rhees frantically threw herself between them. Taylor’s story of Paul almost killing the hobo with his bare hands, Paul telling Mitch he’d killed someone, and flashes of Paul beating Mario—it terrified her, sure that Dobbs, Paul’s friend and hers, was about to receive the beating of his life and all because Dobbs wanted to protect her.

“Stop it!” she screamed. She turned and tried to bury herself into Paul’s arms, trying to remind him what they were doing. “Let’s go, let’s just go,” she begged.

“I’m not letting you leave with him,” Dobbs yelled. “I thought you were smarter than that—better than that. You’re too good for him. Don’t be stupid, Rhees.”

Paul tried to twist away from Rhees and lunge at Dobbs, but she shouted for him to stop again and managed to wrangle herself between them once more. Paul finally took a step back, not wanting to chance hurting her. She turned to Paul and grabbed his shoulders, pleading with him to let it go. She wasn’t sure he was listening, but she didn’t give up. He wouldn’t take his furious eyes off of Dobbs. Dobbs returned the glare, not backing down.

She didn’t dare let go of Paul, but she turned enough to look at Dobbs. “It’s too late Dobbs. I’m going home with Paul tonight, but it won’t be the first time.”

There was a collective gasp from the circle of spectators who were inching their way closer, tightening the circle they’d formed around the entertainment.

Dobbs looked like someone had hit him in the stomach. His surprise quickly changed to rage and he lunged toward Paul again. Paul tried to move Rhees out of the way in an effort to protect her from Dobbs’ attack, but she fought him. It was all he could do to throw his arms around her and turn, hoping to absorb the blow with his shoulder.

“Stop it!” she screamed again. She started to cry. “It’s not his fault. It was me—he tried to turn me down, but I—”

“Rhees, don’t,” Paul hissed, knowing what she was trying to do.

“After Mario tried—” She gulped quick breaths between her sobs. “I didn’t want to be a target anymore. I asked Paul to help me—I begged him.”

“And he was all too eager to oblige! Rhees, you played right into the bastard’s selfish, conniving hands.” Dobbs pressed his finger into Paul’s chest.

“No! He said he wouldn’t do it. He said I was just in shock and I should wait a few days, that I’d realize I didn’t really want that. He said he couldn’t take advantage of me that way.”

Dobbs shook his head. He didn’t believe it.

“It’s true.” It really was—most of it. “He told me to wait, that I’d change my mind, but I didn’t want to wait. I didn’t want to change my mind.”

“Enough Rhees,” Paul growled.

“I took advantage of him. You know he hasn’t let me out of his sight since it happened. He’s been staying at my place, but he’s been a perfect gentleman.”

“I don’t believe it,” Dobbs said.

“It’s true,” Tracy blurted. “We saw Paul sleeping on the couch. Then another night, he wasn’t on the couch when Regina and I got home, but the next morning, he was there. He sat in the kitchen and had coffee—half naked—his pants were undone.” For once, Tracy’s big mouth had come in handy.

“That’s right. He started out on the couch. I waited until he fell asleep.” Rhees reclaimed her story before Tracy hijacked the show completely. “By the time he woke up and realized what I was doing—I don’t think even Christian would have been able to stop.”

Paul closed his eyes and pursed his lips, not sure if he was angrier with Dobbs or Rhees at the moment.

“We’ve been sleeping together ever since.” Rhees’ voice faded, knowing that in telling the truth, she’d just deliberately lied. They had been sleeping together, but not in the way she implied. Not in the way she needed everyone standing around—gawking at them—to believe.

“The morning we found him in our kitchen,” Tracy added, excited to have even more information to share, “he asked Regina and I not to tell anyone. When he left, he told Rhees, ‘Just because you’re sleeping with the boss, don’t think you can be late’.” Tracy must have thought she was still helping, but Regina watched Paul’s furious expression. She nudged Tracy with her elbow and gave her a dirty look, insinuating she should shut up.

“Stop it Regina. Dobbs needs to know. Paul and Rhees have been sleeping together.” She faced Dobbs again. “See? It’s not the way you’re saying. When have you ever known Paul to spend so much time with the same girl? Rhees must really mean something to him.”

Gossip began circulating as the people at the party discussed the new revelation. Paul rolled his eyes when Dobbs’ anger with Paul transformed to disappointment in Rhees. Dobbs looked away from her, disgusted.

“Come on, Baby,” Paul said, offering Rhees his hand. “Let’s go home.”

“Baby?” Rhees asked, surprised. Paul didn’t know what her deal was about nicknames.

“You’re my
girlfriend
.” He threw his hands up in exasperation. “
Remember
?”

Dorene, Krista, Regina, and even Shanni gasped.

“It’s just a nickname—a term of endearment,” he said with gritted teeth, glaring at Rhees. “I think guys call their
girlfriend
s, Baby. So get over it.”

“Okay,” Rhees said quietly, blinking back.

“Let’s get out of here.” Paul grabbed Rhees’ hand with exaggerated insistence, not waiting for her to decide whether to take it or not this time. He pulled her along behind him to the corner of the building where he stopped and turned back to Dobbs. He paused, wavering on whether he would say it or not, and decided he would.

“Do you think Claire knows why you’re so invested in Rhees’ virginity . . . and who you thought deserved to have it?”

Everyone looked Claire’s direction. She flushed pale and stood frozen in place, staring at Dobbs before she stormed away. Paul tugged on Rhees and had to practically drag her out of there. She wasn’t sure she wanted to go with him, but she didn’t want to stay at the shop either. She couldn’t stay, not with the way everyone stood around, glaring and shooting accusing looks her direction.

oOo

Paul walked so fast she had to run every few steps to keep up, and she got the feeling he preferred her behind him so he wouldn’t have to look at her.

“You’re angry with me.”

“No shit!” He didn’t break his pace.

“Why? I’m the one who should be angry.”

He finally stopped, but he didn’t turn around, still avoiding having to look at her. She moved in front of him, forcing him to.

“You shouldn’t have said that—about Claire. You shouldn’t have interfered with their marriage like that. It was cruel.”

“You shouldn’t have risked yourself by jumping into the middle of a fight, and you sure as hell shouldn’t have made up that cockamamie story—I don’t need you to fight my fucking battles for me!”

He really was angry. She took a step toward him.

“I didn’t see it as fighting
your
battle. I thought the whole point of all this . . . it’s because you’re helping me fight mine.” She folded her arms and looked down. “If I, for one second, thought this plan would come between you and your friends—Dobbs is your friend, Paul.”