My heart bottomed out when she said his name. I’m pretty sure this is the longest I’ve ever gone in my life without saying or hearing his name. Tears spring to my eyes on that thought. A gaping hole in my chest makes itself known. God, I miss my best friend. I’ve tried not to think about him all week, and I had been pretty successful. I think that was Ransom’s plan, surrounding me so that I had some distance to consider everything more logically. Pretty smart plan. I’ve been functioning well all week.
“Denver?” Stephanie waves the letter in my face. “You’re acting so strange. Are you sure you’re OK?”
I clear my throat before trying to speak and give her as much truth as I can. “Yeah, I’m gonna be fine. Greer and I had a fight. And you know, we grew up together and have been best friends since before we were born, so it’s been hard.”
She throws her arms around me. “You’re so lucky to have that. I can’t tell you how many friends I’ve had come and go over the years. To have Greer in your life like that … I’m sure there’s nothing you two can’t work out. I will say, I thought you two were headed toward more than friends up in Wyoming.”
That had been the night I told him that I was his, and we kissed on the dance floor for everyone to see. What a silly little fool I’d been. Kissing Ransom and then giving myself to Greer? I deserve everything I get.
I avoid the more than friends comment. “Yep, I’m a lucky girl. Thanks for everything, Stephanie.”
I’M ABLE TO make it back to Ransom’s apartment and through dinner without reading the letter even though it is burning a hole in my pocket. I just don’t know that I’m ready. What will it mean for us? Is this his goodbye? I know that I deserve it. He would be better off without me since I bring out the worst in him—jealously, insecurity, anger …
Or, rather, what I was unable to give him brings that out. But that’s the kicker, I was so close, so ready to give him all of me, but since he’s so used to me and my old ways—the flirting, the using others to fuel my desires, the mind-numbing sex—he couldn’t accept, couldn’t even hear, what I was offering him.
I opened myself up for him, and he never even heard me.
Even though I am royally fucked-up, I always held out hope that, in the end, it would be Greer and me. Even though I’ve been entertaining thoughts of Ransom, I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone other than Greer or spending it not even knowing him. And just as quickly as the barriers around my heart had erected, reinforced, and welded themselves shut, they disintegrate, crumble, and crash down around me.
Despite all my protests and denials, I do love Greer. Not as just a friend, either. I love Greer Tanner. Regret rips its way through me. I wince and breathe deeply. I wish I had been whole enough to admit it before now.
Sometimes our first love isn’t meant to be our last. Will that be our sad truth? Am I ready to say goodbye to Greer?
I get so overwhelmed with this thought that I sink down on my knees behind Ransom’s bedroom door and imagine running into him on the streets of Anaconda ten years from now—a sweet, doting wife on his arm, a little boy perched on his shoulders, Greer with little laugh lines, evidence that he had been well-versed in happiness. That’s what I want for him, so why does this image make me seize for air like my lungs are paralyzed?
Then I picture what he would see … would I be walking downtown, all alone? Would I be on the arm of husband number three because no one man could ever satisfy me? Would I have my men on the side too, just like my mother? Would Greer hear my name around town and feel sorry for me? Poor little slut, she never stood a chance.
Oh … maybe that’s where I went wrong. I’ve been trying all these years to fight my natural instincts. I screwed myself, and I screwed Greer, trying to be something that I’m not. I used Greer and his body to keep me from becoming what I feared most, becoming one anyway, and I took Greer down with me, wreaking the worst kind of collateral damage—Greer and his innocence, Greer and his sanity, Greer and his goodness.
Getting up, a calm settles over me as I slip the note under my pillow. I ease out of the room and to the bathroom, splashing a little water on my face and taming my hair a bit. I slip past Pete’s room and into the hallway, breathing a sigh of relief like a sneaky teenager.
I don’t know where I’m going, but I know what I’m going to do, and that strengthens me. I know what I am, and I embrace it.
I am a slut.
Not just in my imagination. Not just in my DNA. Not lying dormant. I imagine it oozing from my pores, tangible and present.
I wonder if my mother had this same kind of epiphany, or maybe she never even tried to fight it. What a blissful feeling—freedom. When I came to college, I thought I’d find a friend and permanent hookup, much like I had with Greer, but without the possibility of hurting him. I wanted someone who’d fuck me into oblivion and curb my natural instincts. Someone who didn’t care about me as much as the pleasure they could get from me. I laugh at myself a little when I remember that’s exactly what I hoped for in John Ransom. How I ever thought I could control that man is beyond me.
Chapter Thirty-two
Denver
WHEN I REACH the bottom of the stairs, I hear loud music coming from our usual party locale, and I relax as I realize I won’t have to go far. Walking into the room, I see all the familiar rodeo faces. Funny how they all look the same even though I’ve just undergone a life-altering realization.
I head for the drink table and make myself a stiff one before I look for a stiff one. I laugh at my pun, and a few people give me a questioning look. I shrug, lift my drink, and let out a rousing call. They cheer and lift theirs, and we drink in unison.
After draining the contents of my glass in record time, I decide dancing will be my siren’s song, so I make my way to the little crowd of pulsing and shifting bodies. It doesn’t take long. Someone moves in behind me, so I wiggle my ass and press back, putting my hands on his thighs. A clear invitation. We dance like that, anonymously, for the remainder of the song.
When it fades into another song, he spins me around and wraps his arms around me. Brent, one of the bronc riders, I think. His eyes bubble with knowing excitement. Oh, I bet he thinks I’m a sure thing based on my reputation—funny how a change of school setting makes me more appealing. In high school, decent boys wanted nothing to do with me because of that. Now, I guess, anything goes. And it’s true. I’ve felt less judged here than in high school, with the exception of the two bitches and Ransom.
Ransom.
Nope, no thinking about Ransom or Greer. No thinking. I need to get to the sex part quicker for that to happen. I loop my arms around his neck and pull him in tight. He tries to go in for a kiss, and I shake my head.
I move against him meaningfully, and his eyes flare. I’m clearly a chick who wants to get right to it. Almost every man’s dream, I would imagine. Will he consider me a total pervert when I tell him how I like it?
His lips run up my neck and over to my ear while I run through possible scenarios of me telling him to take me rough and make me forget the world. His hand grazing my tit makes me jump a little. I’m not used to public groping. Greer and I were always so clandestine in our naughtiness. But something about him touching me in front of everyone shoots off a tiny thrill. I press myself into his hand so he knows I’m game.
He squeezes me in his palm before two fingers pinch my nipple. I squirm and pull him in closer. Well, I certainly have his attention. I wonder if he lives in the building or if we’ll have to go far.
Nuzzling my neck with his nose, he pushes my hair back until his mouth is at my ear. “Do you even know my name?” he asks, his voice pained.
“Do you know mine?” I retort.
“Touché,” he murmurs. He definitely knows my name, and I’m pretty sure I know his, but it’s fun pretending.
Again, anonymity fuels my libido. “It’ll be better this way. You can screw me hard and then walk away, no problem. Yeah?” I never knew slipping into slu
titude would be so easy. I giggle again at my pun, and his eyes light up, desire shining bright. He probably thinks I’m being shy about what I just requested, and that turns him on. My little power trip goes straight to my head. Yes, you’re the king of my world! Whatever works for you, buddy.
“Let’s get out of here,” he suggests. I just nod against him.
Grabbing my hand, he pulls me off the makeshift dance floor and toward the door. My heart trips over itself as I fully comprehend that I’m about to have sex with some random guy, and not Greer. It doesn’t feel as good as it should for a slut. I chalk it up to years of being with the same guy. I’m sure once I get this one under my belt, I’ll be good to go. Way to think positive, Denver!
We head up the stairs, and I panic a little as I realize he’s on the same floor as Greer. What if he’s one of Greer’s roommates? I can’t remember their names. Just as we pass his apartment, I release a shaky breath. I made it. And just as I have that thought, another obstacle makes itself known. Austin.
His eyes light on mine as soon as he pulls his door closed behind him. It takes him all of three seconds to know exactly what’s going on.
“Austin, don’t lock up,” my lay utters. Oh, shit. They live together.
“I won’t, but there’s no way you’re going in there with her, Brent.”
Oh, good. I do know his name. “What? Why not?” Brent looks from Austin to me, worried about losing out on a sure thing.
“It’s real simple. You’re gonna turn around, go back to the party, and forget this ever happened.” Brent looks prepared to argue more, so Austin finishes with, “She’s Ransom’s girl.”
My mouth drops, but before I can say anything, Brent drops my hand like he just found out I have an STD and trips over himself to apologize to Austin. “Shit. I had no idea. I won’t say anything. Don’t tell Ransom, OK?” His beseeching gaze flies to mine. “It was a misunderstanding, right Denver?”
“Yeah, there’s a misunderstanding all right. I’m not Ransom’s anything,” I sneer at them both.
“Well,” Austin begins, not unnerved in the slightest by my sudden outburst. “Ransom wouldn’t agree with that sentiment, so we’re gonna err on the side of caution tonight since he’s not here to clear it up.”
I cross my arms over my chest, which is a woman’s universal sign for everyone to back the fuck up. Brent takes off back down the hall and is on the stairs, uttering more apologies.
“I’m glad I didn’t mistakenly sleep with a pussy,” I yell out at his retreating figure.
Austin looks at me like I’ve lost my damn mind. “Have you lost your damn mind?” he demands, causing me to cackle.
“No, but I lost my good time. Thanks a lot, Austin.” I narrow my eyes at him. “I would have never taken you for a cockblocker. Oh, well. I guess I’ll go find someone else,” I say as I throw my hands up in the air and turn to head back to the party. Actually, maybe I’ll head over to one of the frat houses where Ransom’s name doesn’t have the scary, repellent effect it has here.
“Not so fast,” Austin drawls, as he slides one arm around my waist. With the other, he pulls me toward his apartment.
He slams the door behind us as I spin into the room, spoiling for a fight. “What’s going on with you?” he demands.
Shrugging, I try for detachment. “I, uh, am just looking for some fun. And Ransom’s gone.”
“Yeah? Fun? Are you really that selfish to mess around on him while he’s dealing with …” He stops and leaves that hanging in the air.
“With what?” I finally prompt.
He rubs the back of his neck, staring at the floor for a second. “Family problems. He’s got a lot on his plate back home, and you’re just gonna cheat on him his first night away from you?”
“Look, we have an … arrangement. We’re not in a real relationship,” I reason.
He waves his arms in a safe motion as he shakes his head so hard something probably rattles loose. “Nuh, uh … bullshit. Ransom’s never called anyone his girl before. Never. Not even Victoria. She was his girlfriend. Always.”
“So what?”
His mouth gapes at me. “If you knew anything about cowboys, you’d know there’s a huge difference between being a cowboy’s girlfriend and a cowboy’s girl.”
“We’re not together,” I practically screech. “And maybe, Ransom’s the opposite and ‘his girl’ is code for ‘girl I’m trying to help’ because that’s all that’s going on.”
He crosses his arms over his chest and narrows his eyes at me. Is he trying to intimidate me? “That’s not the way Ransom sees it, and until he tells me otherwise, that’s the way of it. And now that I know you’re unwilling to behave yourself, I’ll be your shadow while he’s away.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I scoff. “I don’t need you in protective, big brother mode. You know nothing about me or what’s going on with us.”
“Aha … so there is an us.” He grins like he just won the grand finale of the collegiate rodeo.
I decide to change tactics. Sauntering toward him, I widen my eyes, lick my lips, and gentle my voice. “You know my reputation, Austin. You’ve been gentleman enough not to say anything to me, but I know you know.” He backs slowly to the door.
“Denver …” His voice cracks.
“Um, hmm?” Grabbing his belt loops, I pull his hips into mine and put my lips on his Adam’s Apple. He shudders when I touch my tongue to it gently. I swipe my tongue up to his ear and whisper, “Austin, I need …”
“What do you need?” he asks, his voice turned husky.
“You.” I bite gently on the lobe of his ear before I kiss a downward path on his neck.
“Umm …”
“Oh, Austin,” I murmur, hoping that if he thinks I’m turned on, he’ll get turned on. His fingertips bite painfully into my hips. Yes …
“Denver,” he rasps.
“Yeah?”
“Back the hell away from me now,” he bites out.
I continue my kissing and sucking. “Austin … all that flirting. Come on. You want me.”
“That was before,” he says shakily.
“Before what?” I ask as I take another swipe at his throat.
“Before you.” He pushes at me. “Belonged. To. Ransom!” he finishes angrily and pushes me backward a little.
I run a shaky hand through my hair. I’m not turned on, but I’m nervous as hell. I need … I need to forget for a while. “I don’t belong to Ransom.” I soften my tone. “Austin, please?” I implore.
“I can’t, Denver. I think you’re amazing. You’re a fucking knockout. I know you know exactly how turned on I am, but we’d both hate ourselves tomorrow. You told me Ransom’s been good to you. You wanna ruin that? Risk one night of pleasure for what you might have with him? He’s good for you.”
He talks like he knows everything about me. My blood simmers for a whole other reason. “What did he tell you about me? About why he’s helping me?”
“Nothing really. I’ve just known him my whole life and can read him. I’ve known you long enough to know this is different for you too. Just because I like to cut up and have fun doesn’t mean I’m not paying attention.”
Stupid, stupid fucking tears burn at my eyes as I digest all he’s just said. I need to get out of here. “Let me pass,” I mutter angrily.
“You need to take a minute and calm down. And what’s the plan now that I’ve thwarted your others?”
“I just … I need to go to bed.” And that’s the truth. I want to get away from everyone and just sink into oblivion.
His dark brown eyes pierce mine. “If I move out of the way, you’re gonna go up to Ransom’s, right?” I nod. “Alone?” I nod again. He steps out of the way, swinging open the door as he does. I storm past him, but he calls out after me. “I’m calling Pete in two minutes just to be sure!”
Great! I’m being monitored like a fucking nutjob. I feel like one right now, so that actually fits. I hurry up the steps and into Ransom
’s darkened apartment. Dashing into the kitchen, I throw open the cabinets until I find what I need. If I can’t forget the way of my choosing, I’ll forget this way. I have a quick recollection of doing just that when Greer was unavailable back home.
Armed with my sweet oblivion in a bottle, I escape into Ransom’s room. I stash the bottles under the bed and pull off my clothes quickly. Since Ransom’s not here, I crawl under the covers in my bra and panties. I’m just tucking myself in when the door cracks open. I know it’s Pete because Maggie would call out to me. He stands still for a second while I focus on regulating my breathing. Finally, he closes the door. I sit up and fish the bottles from under the bed, putting one on the nightstand and pulling the stopper from the other. I don’t even bother with a glass. I visualize my problems being swept away by the surge of whiskey rushing through my system. Yeah, fuck y’all!
After seven or eight good swigs, I get up, turn the lock on the door, and search my pockets. Pulling out my phone and earbuds out, I scroll, searching for some mind-numbing music. Thumbing through, I land on “In the End” and hit play and then repeat. I push the buds in tight and turn up the volume to maximum. No thinking, not even to choose another song. Picking up my bottle, I guzzle the rest of it even though my throat burns like I’m pouring hot coals down it. My eyes burn like I’ve already consumed so much there is nowhere else for it to go.
After I drink the bottle dry, I slam it down and jerk my hand to the other so quickly that the empty teeters and falls to the floor. I’ll get that in a second, right after I get some more alcohol in me. I take a long swig before realizing it’s tequila. Oh, yeah. That’s fucking perfect. Goodbye, everyone and everything! Denver out! I snicker at my stupid internal asides.
Shifting the pillows against the headboard, I scrunch down and pull my knees up, but I don’t have the energy to keep them up. They just fall languidly to the side. I chuckle at them like they’re not even a part of my body. I move my right leg a bit just to test it. It moves and brushes up against something crinkly.
Used (Unlovable, #1) (Unlovable Series) Page 28
