by H. M. Ward
“They’re thigh highs. And thanks for asking about my lingerie.” I see his expression change and questions fill his eyes. I head them off by saying, “Yes, I’m wearing a garter belt. Yes, they’re attached, so stop asking.”
His jaw drops. Ryan stares at me like he’s never seen me before. Those blue eyes seem so soft, so seductive. I don’t realize what I’ve done until he starts talking. “Are you trying to kill me? A guy only has so much self-control, Holly, and holy shit,” he breathes hard, pushing his hair out of his eyes with both hands, “you’re testing the hell out of mine.” He looks at me like I should take it back, but I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.
We used to talk about anything and everything. Tights are not sexy and the top made a tummy roll under this dress. I chose the thigh highs without thinking about it. They always slide down, so I added the garters. I realize I’ve gotten to him. I’m not that slow—okay, I am that slow—but why let it go to waste? Besides, he teased me first.
I rub my foot against his. I lean forward, and the table presses against my breasts. I know he can see down my top. My hair falls forward, blocking most of my cleavage by the time his eyes drift there. When I speak, Ryan looks up at me like he’s drowning, and wonders if I’m here to rescue him or push him under.
I muster my sultry voice, the one I can only do when I’m goofing around, and say, “They all match—the whole set—bra, panties, and garters. They’ve even got little holly swags on them with a little bell right here.” I press the spot between my breasts. A little jingle noise catches his ear and his mouth falls open.
He’s playing, flirting with me, and I love it. We’ve always flirted like this. Ryan presses his hand to his chest and leans back in the booth. When he sits up, his face is dead serious. “I need a matching pair.”
“Bra?” I ask, laughing.
He shakes his head, “No, panties. I love me some women’s panties.” He winks at me and his straight face curves into a full smile.
“You only love panties when they hit your floor,” I counter and shake my head. “And somehow, I think if you had a bell on your boxers, that a pack of reindeers would follow you around, begging for carrots.”
Ryan had his coffee to his lips and laughed just before taking a sip. He lowers the cup and points at me while wiping his mouth, “That was dangerous, Connelly. You almost ruined that pretty dress.” He grins at me.
“That’s the only way you’ll get it off of me.” The waiter walks by and I flag him down, saying, “No more refills for him.” The waiter nods and keeps walking. Laughter is bubbling inside of me, soaring past the sane giggle level.
Ryan chortles and grabs hold of my hands, pulling me into the table, like literally plastering me against the side. My breasts strain against my neckline because of the way he pulls my arms. I’m momentarily mortified, but he doesn’t look. His crystal clear eyes lock with mine and dance with mirth. I grin, while I honk-laugh (which is the most god-awful sound ever) and pull back. Ryan’s wicked smile becomes incredibly sexy. I have no idea what I’m doing or where I want things to end, but it feels right. I don’t know what comes next, but I don’t want to let go of his hands. I feel his grip on my arms loosen, but I don’t sit back. I don’t let go. Where his fingers touch my bare arms, I feel pinpricks of electricity tingling warmly beneath my skin. It’s like magic.
Everything about him is captivating, beyond reason, beyond comprehension. If Ryan knew how he makes me feel, he could use that power whenever he wanted. There’s no way to refuse him when he’s like this. It’s like he’s the sun, and although I know I’ll never survive, I want to dive straight into him. I want to feel his touch, see his smile, and hear his voice. It doesn’t matter that I’ll burn up in the process. There’s no one else like him.
I know. I’ve looked.
The waiter clears his throat and we release each other. Grinning, I sink back into the booth, smiling at Ryan.
“Your order.” The waiter puts the plates in front of us and asks, “Will there be anything else?” Ryan shakes his head and the waiter leaves. When I pop a fry in my mouth, Ryan looks up at me.
“I missed having you around, Holly.”
CHAPTER
4
HOLLY
His words slice through me like little blades. I smile at him and nod. I suck at receiving compliments, but that really wasn’t one. Was it? I mean, Ryan says things like that and then keeps going. He acts like it doesn’t mean anything, so I never assume it does. The thing is, those little words stick with me. He’s said things like that before, words that pierced through all my armor and sunk into my heart. But when I expect him to act, to do something more, Ryan doesn’t. He shirks it off like he didn’t mean anything by it. He could say that he wants to have sex with me and then make it sound like an off the cuff comment.
Maybe I’m mental? Maybe I make too much out of nothing, but Ryan’s words always sound charged. It’s like static electricity is building between us and one day we’ll touch, and both combust into a pile of ashes—or lust-induced insanity. The latter sounds preferable. I could be down with that, as long as Ryan was the other nutjob that I got to get down with.
My mind is wandering, having crazy conversations by itself. Ryan says something. When I don’t answer he leans forward and his dark brows lift into his hairline. “Well?”
“Hmmm? Well, what?”
“Do you ever pay attention?” He stabs his chicken with his fork and eats it like he’s starving.
My gaze strays to his lips and I tear it away, trying to use what little common sense I have left. “No.” I smile.
He laughs. “At least you’re honest. I could tell you that I zone out every four seconds, because I’m thinking about sex, but I’ll be damned if I ever figure out what has you so distracted.”
I snort, and stab a fry with my fork. I wave it in the air as I speak. “That, my friend, will be a secret that I take with me to my cold, dark grave.” I emphasize the grave part by pointing my fork at him, and the fry falls off the end and plops down, into his drink.
His eyes lift slowly to meet mine. “You ruined my soda.”
“That wasn’t me.” I lie and don’t look at him. A laugh bubbles up inside of me. This feels like old times, the way things were before I left.
“What wasn’t you?” I cock my head at him, confused. Did he seriously forget what we were talking about? Then he grins at me, “Sorry, that was the four second point. What were you saying?”
I laugh and want to shove his hand, but I don’t reach for him. Instead, I smile, saying, “Take a drink and try to remember.”
“Ah, the French fry incident of ’12. Yeah…” he dips his fingers into his glass and lifts the fry out. It’s soggy and dripping with Coke. “To make it up to me, I think you should either…” he pauses considering his options. His blue gaze flicks between his wet fry and my face. “Wear this as a monobrow for the rest of the night, or eat it.”
I laugh at him. He’s not serious. Ryan’s never serious. I call his bluff, mostly to see what he’ll do. “I’ll eat it.”
He blinks at me like he heard me wrong, “What? You will?”
I nod and lean forward opening my mouth, thinking that there’s no way he’ll actually feed my a soda filled fry. Yeah, I was wrong. A wicked grin slips across Ryan’s lips as he leans closer, extending his hand toward my mouth. I think about slapping my mouth shut and jerking away, but with my luck I’ll have the soda-fry down my top.
This is meant to be silly. It’s meant to be disgusting, to make me cringe and squeal, but I don’t. For some reason this feels seductive. Ryan’s fingers brush my bottom lip as he places the fry on my tongue. It’s cold and salty sweet. His fingers linger, and his thumb slips across my bottom lip. Ryan’s gaze is on my mouth. He doesn’t notice anything else. I shiver as he touches me, even though his touch sends a jolt of heat coursing through my veins. I close my mouth on his finger, licking the salt and soda from the tip. Ryan sucks in a breath and pulls awa
y slowly.
I’m completely lost in his gaze, totally ignoring the nasty fry in my mouth. Somehow, Ryan made it sexual. How does he do that? It’s like every touch, every time, ends this way. I can’t stand it and I break the gaze, munching the fry.
I say between chomps, “This is really gross. You should try one.” I joke, but to my surprise, he does.
Ryan takes a fry from my plate, dunks it in my soda, and then eats it. I feel my nose crinkle. “You’re right. It’s totally disgusting.” He takes a huge swallow of soda to wash it down. He glances up at me, clearing his throat. “Fun times.”
“You know it.”
Things are getting awkward again. Why does that happen? We can sit together for hours, and then he does this. I don’t know what happens, but it’s like he disconnects and wants to run. But he doesn’t. He stays with me, even though he’d clearly rather be somewhere else. I take this as our cue to leave. I wave for the check. “Come on, let’s get out of here before it’s midnight. Although I have my own life 2,000 miles away, my parents still think I need a curfew when I’m home.”
“Curfew?” he asks, wrinkling his nose and laughing. “What are you, sixteen?”
“Apparently.” I throw my part of the bill down on the table and start to walk out.
Ryan grabs my arm. “Hey cowgirl, slow down. ‘Round these parts people pay at the cash register.” I forgot. People throw money on the table and leave in Texas. My face reddens and I curse myself for looking so stupid, but Ryan just smiles. His gaze flicks between my face and the cashier. “Come on, little lady.”
“Oh, my God. Stop with the John Wayne voice. You sound like Homer Simpson doing a cowboy impression.” I cut my gaze to his.
Ryan reaches for my hand and knits our fingers together, and then twists me toward him. “Which accent do you prefer? Tell me truly. New York or that Texas twang?” He’s standing above me, despite my heels.
My heart thumps against my ribs. That look could make me—well, never mind what it could do—the point is that this wasn’t the best place to be for that kind of thing. I answer quickly, pulling my hands away as I do so, “New York. There’s something more possessive about it.”
We pay the cashier. Actually, Ryan pays the cashier and shoves my money back toward me. “I’ll pay. You’re giving me a ride in that tank. God knows, I’ll owe you $120 bucks in gas by the time we get home.”
“Fine,” I huff, but I don’t like it.
The cashier is a middle-aged woman. She grins at me, but averts her eyes quickly, like she knows something I don’t. I march outside with my bare arms and tiny dress. Ryan comes up behind me and puts his jacket over my shoulders. “Ry, it’s too cold. Really, I’m fine. Keep it.” I turn to give it to him, but he walks past me, ignoring my outstretched arm. “Don’t make me drop it,” I warn.
He looks back over his shoulder at me holding his leather jacket over a puddle of icy goop. Black stuff bubbles at the surface like it’s a witch’s brew. “You will sorely regret that. I wouldn’t do it if I were you.”
I laugh, “Or you’ll what?” What could he possibly do? I shouldn’t have asked.
Without warning, Ryan turns and snatches my wrist. He pulls and I’m about to slam into him, but he bends at the knee, and grabs my waist with his other hand. Within seconds, I’m hoisted over his shoulder kicking and screaming.
Ryan laughs, and walks us to the car. My hands tangle in his hair, half clinging to him, half trying to climb down. The frigid air is blowing my skirt over my head and the people in the diner are getting a really good show. “Here we are,” he says and slides me down between him and the car.
I shove the jacket at him, and pound my fists into his chest. “Never do that to me again!” I continue to pound his chest and scold him, but when his fingers wrapped around my wrists, all the venom drains out of me.
I like his touch too much. I like it when he acts like I’m his to do with as he pleases. It makes my skin grow hot and the pit of my stomach twist. The proximity of his body is too close. I can feel the heat coming off of him. His scent fills my head.
I calm down and Ryan still holds my wrists. He tightens his grip slightly, and leans closer, crushing his jacket between us. His dark lashes lower as he studies my lips, drinking them in like they’re hypnotic. Parting his lips, he breathes through his mouth. My heart feels like it’s going to burst. I can’t stand how he lingers so close, like he could kiss me, but he chooses not to. I shiver and he presses his body against mine, pinning me.
He finally moves toward my lips and dodges sideways at the last second and whispers in my ear, “Better get going.” Then his hands are gone. His coat is gone. Ryan is gone. He walks to the other side of the car and gets in.
I stand there with my heart pounding like I’ve been attacked by a bear. I try to shake it off, but he’s gotten to me much worse than before. If I get home without having sex with him, someone needs to give me a frickin’ medal. I suck in the icy air and held it in my lungs. Exhaling loudly, I sit down in my car and turn the engine over.
______
The heater starts slowly and eventually I stop shivering. Ryan doesn’t offer his jacket again. As I head toward the parkway, I notice flashing yellow signs. They illuminate the night, flashing, PKWY CLOSED. It takes me a second to realize we have a problem. While we were in the diner, the storm worsened. It laid down a sheet of ice, followed by more snow. The streets are slick, but as long as a plow gets through them, so can we. The problem seems to be a general lack of plows.
I say as much to Ryan, “Where are the plows? And why is the parkway closed?” I glance over my shoulder and slowly move my boat of a car into a parking lot. I’m trying to remember, but I can’t. My maps of Long Island and Texas merged. I can’t remember if 231 merges with Southern State or if that’s Loop 820 that merges with 30. “I can’t remember how to get out of here. We can get home on the L.I.E. or try to cut across to Sunrise, but the roads suck.”
“You can’t get to Sunrise from here, and the roads that you’d need to connect to are going to be closed too. It’s the ice. The plows aren’t out yet, because they’re expecting more ice.”
“Don’t they salt and sand?”
“Yeah, but not now. It’s late and the storm just started. They’ll do it in the morning before commuters take off for work.” Ryan turns in his seat. “If we go back the way we came, I bet we could get back to the dorms.”
I arch a brow at him. “Dorms?”
“Yeah. You have a better idea?” Ryan attends college here. His dorm is right around the block.
I glance around, wondering if we can sleep in the car and rule it out. It’s too cold and I’ll run out of gas. I shake my head, “No.” My stomach climbs up my throat as I look at him. He’s inviting me to stay with him. I want to say no. I feel my emotions shattering like cheap glass. Shards go flying as I stare blankly, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to handle this.
He sighs loudly, obviously annoyed with me. “Listen, it’s not ideal, but it’s better than sleeping in the car. If you have somewhere else we can go, somewhere closer…?”
I shake my head. “The dorms are the closest. Is there anyone else there?”
He grins, “Why, you don’t want to sleep with me?”
My back straightens and I visibly flinch. It’s mortifying. “No, I just…”
“You just, what?” He looks at me for a moment and then turns off the charm, but I’m still drawn to him. Damn him. Why does he have to be so droolworthy?
“I just don’t want to have to explain to people why I’m at your place in the morning.”
He looks at me like I’ve hit my head one too many times. “It snowed, Holly. They aren’t stupid. Everyone knows you don’t want me like that.”
My lips part. I start to correct him, to ask who thinks that, but I snap my jaw shut. Maybe he doesn’t know how I feel about him? Is it possible?
CHAPTER
5
RYAN
I glance at Holly
’s face and can see something there, but I can’t tell what. The idea of going back to the dorm wasn’t a bad one. It’ll be warm, and we can crash there for the night. I just have to keep my hands off of her. I nearly lost it at the diner. When her skin brushes against mine, every part of me flares to life. I can’t not react to her caress. My body responds whether I want it to or not.
She follows me across the parking lot and we stand in front of the dorm. It’s quiet. The snow falls faster now, sticking to everything it touches. Holly’s dark hair glitters with touches of snow and ice. She looks so beautiful that I want to reach out and touch her face, and feel her silky hair between my fingers. I glance at Holly and she has that unreadable expression in her eyes. I walk a little bit in front of her, because I’ll take her hand if I walk next to her, and reach for my card. We stop before the door. No one is here. Everyone went home for the holidays. Technically, I’d signed out along with everyone else. I swipe the card and the black case flashes a green light at me. I pull the door open and let Holly pass through. Her perfume fills my head, making me breath in another gulp before she passes. It’s intoxicating—she’s intoxicating.
I close the door and walk down the hall. Usually the dorm is bustling with people, but not today. We walk to the elevators and I push the up button. Holly is quiet, like she’s considering sleeping in the snow just so she doesn’t have to do this. I don’t understand her. She runs hot and cold. One second she’s gazing at my lips, and the next she’s shut down and won’t even look at me.
I talk to her over my shoulder as I head toward my room. “Have you been up here before?” She shakes her head. “I thought you might. Nicole lives in the other tower. Basically each unit is a bedroom, with two beds and a sink. The showers are down the hall.”
She looks around as we pass by doors that all look identical. “You like it here?”
