Ripple Effect

by J. Bengtsson

  RJ pulled back, gazing up at me with heavy-lidded eyes, that look of his all lust. Gripping the back of my neck, he drew me in until our lips were crushed into each other’s. There was nothing gentle this time around. Digging my fingers into his hair, I helped myself, clinging to the promise of a life spent exactly like this.

  And when we finally broke apart, I forced myself to breathe as I traced his saliva along my swollen lips with a finger. RJ pulled his shirt up and over his head, giving me my first glimpse of his deeply bruised stomach and torso. It had only been three weeks since the earthquake, and he was still healing. Could he handle the jostling?

  RJ saw me staring. “Are we back to this again? Trust me, it’ll hurt me more if you stop.”

  I nodded, lowering my lips to his warm skin, and tenderly kissed each and every bruise. “But just to be sure… I need to check your reflexes.”

  “My reflexes?”

  “Uh-huh. Your medical clearance. Remember?”

  Still straddling RJ, I glided my slippery center down past his waist, coming to rest on his jutting erection still frustratingly sheathed. I rubbed my slickness over him. Once, twice… oh my god, yes.

  “Reflexes,” I grunted. “Working fine.”

  He thickened between my quivering legs, the expression on his face straight-up lust. I continued to move over him in a slow circular motion. His thumb moved down to my nub, kneading the pulsing spot between my legs and sending a jolt through me. Seeing my electrified reaction, RJ doubled down, his fingers working expertly between my thighs. I writhed against him, my heart racing and my head spinning. Nothing had ever felt quite like this. Under RJ’s expert touch, I was leaking like a malfunctioning faucet.

  “Do you want more?” he whispered in my ear.

  God, yes. More. More. But I couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. My body rumbling with desire. So close. And then nothing. RJ stopped, his fingers abandoning me in my time of need and leaving me throbbing at my core. I think I might have whimpered in response, pressing my thighs together to try and ward off the inevitable. But it was a swift transition. RJ lifted me off him and set me on my back before rising to his knees. He gazed down at me with lascivious eyes, while prying my legs back open.

  “I’m not done with you yet,” he teased, flashing me a wicked, life-altering grin.

  I was supercharged; one touch might shock me dead. My stomach rose and fell with the anticipation of what he was promising me. And when he dipped his head between my legs, touching his tongue to my sex, it forced a squeal from my depths. I closed my thighs around his head and grabbed for whatever might dampen the relentless pressure growing inside. With a wad of sheets in my hands, I dipped my head back waiting, wanting. With his tongue applying the final touches, RJ slid his hand the length of my rigid, arched body, triggering the explosion. For one intense moment I felt weightless, suspended between here and there before crashing back onto the bed in a quivering state of shock.

  I watched helplessly as RJ removed his pants, his dick springing from its restraints. He was naked in all his glory, and I’d never seen anything quite like him. Holy shit, he was hung. And that rack of abs. I was not worthy. While RJ sheathed the monster, I curiously traced my fingers along those horizontal muscles in his stomach, reveling in their hard lines. Jeremys did not have these.

  RJ returned to his rightful spot between my legs, rigid and ready. I reached for him, wanting to own every bit of him. He pushed in, the wetness easing him through. He filled me up, returning my body to high alert as he slowly eased me into this whole new world of desire until I was once again on the edge of sanity, begging him for more.

  His fingers returned to my sex, startling me in the very best away. Currents of pleasure ricocheted through me as I dug my nails into his back. It was wild. Thrilling. I wasn’t going to last. He slid through me, the length of him, in and out, sending my mind to places it had never been. And those punishing fingers just seared through me. It was ecstasy and agony all wrapped into one. I couldn’t hold on. I couldn’t let go. My body shook like the temblor that had started the story of us. He ground into me, bottoming out, and the groan escaping his mouth sounded like a wounded animal.

  “RJ, I can’t. It’s too much. Feels too...”

  He thrust harder, and I just held on for dear life until a rolling earthquake of unimaginable magnitude ripped through me. I screamed, not caring who could hear my cries. And when the rumbling finally subsided, I wrapped my arms around my superstar lover, panting and calling out his name.

  He stroked my hair. Kissed my neck. My face. My eyelids. And in that moment, I knew my declaration of love in the parking garage had not come from a place of fear or sadness. It had come, very much, from the heart.

  29

  RJ: For a Good Cause

  I sat on a stool in the middle of the stage, just me and my guitar. Stripped of all conceit, I simply played, lost in that place in my mind where I went when the music was flowing through me like gold. I’d existed here a lot lately, enough that Dani needed to remind me to eat and to sleep and to make her scream.

  But the late nights in the studio had paid off with nine solid tracks for my second solo album, each one more deeply felt than the next. I’d been proud of my work before, but never like this. In a few weeks’ time, the album would drop, and the world would judge its worth. There was always that chance it would flop, but this time I wouldn’t hide because I no longer measured myself by the opinions of others.

  I launched into my final number, Dani’s favorite and one that never failed to bring tears to her eyes. This was the song inspired by that day on the chair in her childhood room. That was the day we’d decided to turn our survivor’s guilt into action. And why we were all here tonight—Dani, me, and a few of my famous friends—raising money for earthquake victims throughout the city. The proceeds wouldn’t bring back loved ones or replace heirlooms lost, but it would help with funeral costs, put roofs back over people’s heads, and provide a future for Sarina, the little girl who’d lost it all.

  Steeped in emotion, I sang the last wrenching notes of the song, ending with a crackling of my voice. There was a brief moment of silence as the audience acknowledged my sorrow. Then came the cheers. I stood and waited. Normally I’d take my final bow and exit the stage, but there was nothing normal about this show, nor was this the last song I would sing tonight.

  The crowd buzzed with excitement, knowing what was to come. Despite all the notable names on tonight’s roster, AnyDayNow’s one-night-only reunion had earned top billing and driven the ticket prices through the roof. The audience erupted when the guys joined me at center stage. Although each had been out earlier in the evening to perform solo, this was the first time any of us had been on the stage together since our much-publicized breakup nearly two years ago. There had been renewed interest in us after the quake, our natural disaster dramas drawing the interest of millions and bringing our older music back onto the airwaves. Say what you will about our cheeseball pop songs, but they were generation-defining and as popular today as they’d been at the height of our fame. We’d made our mark on history. AnyDayNow was here to stay.

  Taking our positions on the stage, I was overly aware that this was the first time I’d be moving around the stage on my prosthetic leg. It was daunting, but I felt confident that my balance was solid enough that I’d be okay. With the extensive physical therapy I’d done, my new energy-storing foot and ankle had become an extension of me, providing a comfortable stride and allowing me to step up on this stage tonight and sing.

  The music started, and we launched into the first song. You could barely hear our voices over the screams of the crowd. That only spurred us on, and we gave a vibrant performance reminiscent of the days when we’d been at the top of the charts. It felt good. Natural. I even tried to pants Bodhi on stage, for old times’ sake.

  Looking to my left, then to my right, I couldn’t help but smile. Damn, I’d missed this. If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine we were ba
ck on the tour bus, exhilarated and exhausted after our first stadium concert—fresh-faced teenagers experiencing our first taste of fame. It was from those humble beginnings that we’d forged our tight bonds. Everything had been so new. So exciting. But somewhere along the way, it lost its shine. Tonight was a reminder of who we were and where we were all going—separately, but never far from one another.

  The after-party was a who’s who of Hollywood and the hottest ticket in town. Most who came had no direct connection to the earthquake, nor had they been touched by the destruction it wrought. Yes, they’d felt it and had tweeted about it, but their lives had moved on just like before. Hell, had I ridden out the quake in my mansion, I probably would’ve come to this party, plunking down an impressive amount of money to show I cared—even if I really couldn’t give a shit.

  But, hey, I wasn’t knocking these people for coming. Their presence generated publicity for the event, which, in turn, brought in private donations from across the world. And then it would be up to Dani and her team of Lucky Swimmers Club volunteers to dole out the money to those most in need.

  Me and the guys made our entrance into the after-party an hour late. As part of the documentary for the band, the camera crew filmed our reunion concert then conducted the final interviews before sending us on our way. When we entered the room, there was a different energy. Instead of snickering behind our boy band backs, our peers cheered us. It was almost as if we’d gone from jokes in the industry to legends overnight. And for a second time in just over an hour, we got a standing ovation.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Shawn asked, smiling and waving.

  “No clue,” Bodhi replied.

  “Are we…” Dane stopped to mull over the words. “Suddenly cool?”

  “Either that or they’re mocking us,” Hunter said.

  “It’s the natural evolution of a boy band,” I said. “Puberty plus eight, divided by a natural disaster or two, equals legends.”

  Dani wasn’t hard to find in her sparkling silver dress and bouncy hair swept to one side, held in place with Swarovski crystal claw clips. When it had come time to pick her outfit for tonight’s gala event, she’d worried it was too much, that glitter and shine was not her, but I’d disagreed. Every ball needed a princess, and there was no one more worthy of the title than her.

  She’d saved me a seat at her table, and I squished in next to Parker.

  “You made it,” I said, shaking his hand.

  “Dani did promise me VIP passes for life, so I figured I’d come collect.”

  “And this is Marissa,” Dani said, snuggling closer to me with a teasing smile on her face. “Isn’t it cute? Our little Peter Parker has his first real girlfriend.”

  “Again”—Parker laughed—“not a teenager.”

  “Sure. Sure.” She winked, her whole face contracting.

  “Hey, RJ,” Charlie called from across the table. “Shouldn’t you be at the cool kids’ table?”

  I glanced around, and aside from Parker, Marissa, my brother Manny, every other person occupying the seven tables around us was one of Dani’s sperm siblings and their significant others. The Lucky Swimmers Club had taken over my life, and they just kept growing in numbers, thanks to Dani’s notoriety following the earthquake. It had spurred countless articles about her unusual beginnings and pushed the LSC into the forefront of artificially inseminated insanity.

  But while they’d become the butt of a good many jokes, The Lucky Swimmers Club was no laughing matter. Not only had they rallied around Dani in her time of need, but they were also at the forefront of the fundraising efforts for the relief fund. These people were more than just friends to me. They’d become my surrogate family.

  “Nah,” I replied. “I’m just where I want to be.”

  30

  Dani: Romantic Gesture

  Bing. Bing. Bing.

  I grabbed my phone to shut off the alarm, confused by why it was going off in the first place. After last night’s event, this was supposed to be a sleep-all-day type of morning.

  A yellow sticky note was clinging to my phone screen. It read, You have fifteen minutes to meet me in the kitchen.

  I smiled. Uh-oh. RJ was being romantic again. This ought to be good. I always enjoyed watching him stumble around the art of wooing as if it were such a foreign concept to him. Some of my favorite romantic gestures included ‘chick-flick movie night,’ where RJ suffered through each and every film, or the ‘no strings attached’ backrub that always ended in his favor. He’d even once claimed putting the toilet seat down was a romantic gesture that needed rewarding. But I got it. RJ wasn’t used to trying. Women had always seduced him, not the other way around.

  I hopped out of bed and quickly did my business, contemplating getting more ‘picture ready’ for my surprise but sort of liking my fresh-out-of-bed look. After last night’s benefit concert, I’d only managed to get out of my dress and pull on a pair of cute pajamas before collapsing on top of the mattress, never to be heard from again. The makeup I hadn’t removed from my face last night was looking a little rough this morning, but once I wiped the mascara smudges off from under my eyes, I honestly wasn’t looking half bad.

  I found RJ in the kitchen exactly fifteen minutes later. He was at the stove, in an apron, making eggs. Overwhelmed with affection for this man, I wrapped my arms around his waist and dug my appreciative head into his back.

  “You’re on time,” he said, twisting to kiss me.

  “I’m always on time.”

  “Well, you definitely slept well last night.”

  “Is that code for ‘You were snoring’?”

  “If you were, do you think I’d say anything after the last time?” he asked.

  RJ was referring to the time he’d woken me from a dead sleep to inform me that I was snoring. I’d replied in a deep, manly roar, “Whaddaya want me to do about it?”

  Since then, he’d let sleeping bears lie.

  RJ removed the eggs from the heat and put his spatula down. He then turned around to give me a proper hug. I tipped my head up for my kisses, easily falling under his spell. It was hard to believe we’d once been warring neighbors. I couldn’t remember ever not loving him.

  “Now, go. Sit down,” he said, swatting my butt. “I’ll serve you.”

  “Wow, so domesticated. Who knew all it would take to turn Chad Woodcock into a real live human being was the love of a good woman?”

  “Well,” he demurred. “That and a 7.1 magnitude earthquake.”

  “Ehh.” I waved off his suggestion. “That too, I suppose.”

  He pointed to the kitchen island.

  “I’m going,” I said, slipping onto the stool before getting my first full look at my surroundings. The room was filled with fresh flowers—they were everywhere. “What’s all this?”

  RJ shrugged. “Rozsika went to the farmers’ market, I think.”

  “Damn. What sort of grocery budget do you give her?”

  RJ set two plates down in front of me—scrambled eggs and cut-up fruit. It was the extent of his culinary talents, but somehow it was completely endearing.

  “Why do you look better to eat than my breakfast?” he asked, kissing my cheek as he slid into the spot beside me.

  I smiled, picking up my fork and taking a bite out of his romantic gesture. “Yum.”

  RJ didn’t respond, but I noticed his leg bouncing up and down on the rung of the stool.

  “You okay?”

  He met my eye and smiled before dropping his gaze back to the counter. Placing his finger on a stack of Post-it Notes, RJ slid them closer.

  “Ah.” I laughed. “Like old times.”

  Without a word, RJ picked up the pencil and wrote one word on the top sticky note in the stack.

  I.

  He tore it from the pad and set it in front of me.

  Love.

  He tore that one off too and placed it in front of me.

  And then the third. You.

  I smiled, took
the pencil from his hand, and wrote four separate words on four individual notes and placed them one at a time in front of him.

  I. Love. You. Too.

  He snagged the pencil back and wrote, My Hero.

  I replied on three separate notes, My. Hero. Back.

  We gazed into each other’s eyes. Such love. I gripped his jaw and kissed him. We lingered there, our lips attached but not really moving. Lazy love.

  He picked up the pencil once more and, hiding the words from me, scribbled onto four separate sticky notes.

  Placing them all out in order on the counter in front of me, I read:

  Will. You. Marry. Me?

  Epilogue

  RJ

  I checked my watch. Shit. Almost eleven. I’d promised the kids to be back by ten thirty to tuck them in, but the concert had run late, and now I was racing against the clock. Although realistically, they probably wouldn’t be asleep anyway, given that bedtime for them was like a twenty-seven-step process that went something like this: Bath. Story. Song. Kisses. Hugs. I love yous. And then the glorious ‘See you in the morning.’ Dani and I would shut the door behind us, so hopeful, even though we both knew we’d be seeing the kids twelve more times before the night was through.

  Not that it was really their fault that their sleep patterns were all off. Life on the road wasn’t exactly conducive to early bedtimes. But Dani and I had decided early on that staying together was more important than socially acceptable bedtimes, so touring during the summer months had become family vacation time. The kids loved the bus, with all its earthly comforts. We’d go from city to city, picking fun family activities. All the things I’d never done with my own family growing up, I did now with Dani and my own treasured kids… sometimes late into the night. Making memories, Dani always said. And damned if I wasn’t all in.