by Candy Sloane
Val shook her head.
Cynthia’s face twisted in confusion. “You two have always been your own thing.”
She supposed that was true, but Cynthia didn’t know the whole story. Valerie had never told her about the day Alec tried to turn their friendship into everything. The day after graduation, he’d come to her house with his life strapped to his back asking her to gamble on his future, what he said could be their future, rather than go after her own.
She wanted to be able to say yes, but she knew back then that Alec couldn’t be her savior when he still needed one so badly. He’d played off her rejection that day, but they hadn’t spoken for almost two years. It took almost five more to repair what had broken, to get their friendship back on solid ground, and now they were playing roulette yet again.
“Here,” Cynthia said, reaching into her pocket and sliding something shiny across the table.
“A condom?” Val shout-whispered, hiding it in her pocket before anyone could see.
“I brought a bunch of them. After last night I thought you might need one.”
Val hadn’t even thought of it. She definitely hadn’t brought some. In all her rules that morning, she hadn’t even talked to Alec about safe sex. Of course, if she knew him like she did, he’d brought a bunch of them, too.
“Thanks,” Val said, even as uncertainty boomed and cracked through her. She and Alec were going to have sex.
She and Alec were going to have sex.
“Oh my God.” Cynthia put her hand to her mouth and whispered between her fingers, “He’s coming over here.”
“Don’t say anything,” Val scolded, once again remembering this same scene played out inside the walls of their high school.
Back then, Alec had even been there sometimes sitting next to Cynthia in silence, his coffee brown eyes watching Valerie as the boy she liked hit their cafeteria table. But now he stood above them in a tight black T-shirt and tighter black jeans, a studded belt around his waist, his tattoos shadows in the sun—a rock star at a picnic.
“You want to be on my team for this crap?” The same eyes that had watched her orgasm into his mouth that morning were on her now.
“Team?” Val asked.
“For the obstacle course. You guys haven’t been listening, have you?” A roguish sneer flashed on his lips.
“No, we were listening.” Cynthia spoke fast. “She just felt bad because I don’t have a partner. But I’m not participating anyway. I have a bad…” She paused, her save almost perfect. “Foot,” she finished, wearing a cantaloupe slice of a smile.
“Sure, I’ll be on your team.” The words came out breathy. Not at all in the casual way they should have when she responded to Alec about such a simple question.
“Okay,” he drawled like he’d noted it, too, “let’s get set up, then.”
She rose and walked with him to where the other teams were waiting. A potato sack lay on the ground in front of them. Their paired-off classmates gathered in front of their own potato sacks. She glanced down the line and saw Gideon on a team with Georgia Cahill—past head cheerleader, always jerk—the girl leader of the group who’d called her Barking.
Was she thinking that word now?
Her blond hair was up in a high ponytail. She wore napkin-sized white shorts and a red halter top, her body all tan and curves. Gideon’s looks had caught up to hers, that was for sure, but what the hell were they doing on the same team?
Why did she care? She had her own awkward pairing to worry about.
Gideon noticed her, smiled, and waved.
She responded in kind, but something about his smile, the way it curled up on only one side, made it seem like he knew something. The same thing Cynthia now knew.
“You didn’t tell him, did you?” Valerie had no right to ask, but standing in silence seemed worse.
“What, and break one of your rules?” he whispered into her ear. “No, Dirty Girl, I kept my mouth shut about your fabulous pussy.”
She swallowed a blistering breath. Apparently that nickname was sticking, as were his abdomen-twisting words. She would have told him to stop, if she could get her lips to move. But something about the way he spoke, about being known that way to someone, sent prickles of steamy electricity between her trembling legs.
“What about you—you and Cynthia get up to your old tricks?”
“No,” she replied quickly, “I didn’t say anything.” She hadn’t, not literally anyway.
“Gideon has his own stuff going on.”
Valerie leaned in closer. “Does it involve Georgia?”
“Secrets are secrets for a reason,” he said, laying his pointer finger on her lips.
That finger. She remembered where it had been earlier, where she couldn’t wait for it to be again. He pulled it away, put his hands in his back pockets.
“You have secrets, too.” His eyes roamed over her face. He was so much taller now that she had sneakers on instead of her heels. If he pulled her into an embrace, her head would hit right at the center of his chest, that mouthwateringly taut chest. She never would have thought of it B.F. but now their closeness made her want more closeness, made her crave it like an addict.
She forced herself to look away. God did she ever have secrets. Number one was that she’d never come close to experiencing anything like what had happened between them, and Cock-fucius help her, she couldn’t wait for it to happen again.
Chapter Six
Alec was not a sportsman, and even after brushing his teeth and a shower, he could still sense Valerie all over him. Having her near him now was not helping his game. She was attached to him, literally—by rope at the ankles and the edge of his torso by his arm as they ran toward the next obstacle. His goal was supposed to be hitting that far-off cone, but as her curves banked tight against him, his only aim was getting through this fucking maze so he could touch her again, taste her again.
Reece seemed to be using anything she could think of to keep them busy, like they were children who would misbehave if they weren’t given something to occupy them at every moment—idle hands, and all that.
Maybe she was right. Look where the activity his classmates had come up with last night had brought him. To Valerie riding his mouth like it was a mechanical bull, her legs spread wide while she filled him with her musky juice, while she begged for it. Fuck, if they were alone right now…
But they weren’t. The whole group of his classmates littered the lawn behind the hotel in potato sacks, or attached like he and Valerie were, or preparing for a tug-of-war. All of them seemed, at least for the moment, even younger than they had in high school.
There had been the initial rush of attention when he arrived that morning, hugs and back slaps and selfies. People who didn’t even know he existed in high school fawning about how much they loved his music. He was used to the swarms; they happened a lot. And he’d expected this one.
What he hadn’t expected was Val standing next to him giving the people who gave him crap in high school—for wearing the same clothes he wore the day before, or being wrapped in a jacket on the hottest of days—crap right back.
“Amazing how fame makes a person worth your time,” she said to a group of giggling women who’d been on the cheerleading squad as they each took their turn giving him a too-long hug. “At least he has a name tag on so you don’t have to ask,” she added when the crowd kept squeezing without pause.
They might have been able to brush off Valerie’s outburst, but he heard her loud and clear. Her words weren’t jealous, they were protective. She was his best friend and these women were fake bitches and she wanted them to know it.
“What’s with Val?” one of them had asked.
“She’s my bodyguard,” was all he could think to reply.
He’d always wanted to be the one who shielded her, but she was so much stronger than he was. He supposed that came from not having a father who’d convinced you that you were shit every day of your life. Alec could remember wishin
g his father had been an alcoholic so he could blame the way he’d treated him on something. As it was, Alec only had himself to blame.
“You didn’t have to say that,” he said when the cheerleaders had left.
“I might not have had the courage to in high school, but there is no way I’m letting that shit go now.”
His eyebrows shot up.
“What? You shouldn’t, either.”
He knew she was right, but the part of him that was still that same scared boy wanted the attention of those women. Even if they didn’t deserve it, he needed to know that he did. It was the only thing that kept him going most days, kept the echoes of his father’s words quiet. Look how many people love me. Look how many people think I am special.
He wondered how much longer he would carry that little boy around. At twenty-nine he was getting exceptionally heavy.
Valerie’s arm pinched at his side, reminding him they were currently participating in the damn obstacle course. He couldn’t believe he’d agreed. He was not a rule follower. But he needed distraction. He actually needed Reece’s stupid activities.
If he and Valerie had stayed in the room, they would have fucked. The one time she’d mandated finished and over hour one. If sex between them was only happening once, he wanted to savor it. Build the need he already felt. Crave the taste of her a little longer.
He tried to concentrate on the race, but all he could think of as the rope burned the skin of his ankle was tightening that same rope around Valerie’s wrists, pulling her taut to that headboard, so he could use his tongue to make her even crazier than he had that morning. Or maybe if she really was the dirty girl he thought she was, she’d tie him up.
Her brown hair was up in a ponytail, a bright pink tank top and black shorts over her adorable little ass. A white bra strap slanted over one shoulder like a finger, beckoning.
He’d given a lot of women orgasms over the years, but he’d never quite delighted in it as much as he had with Valerie. He wanted her to feel good because she was his friend, and because her body demanded to be worshipped. Not just the outside of her, either. Not just her skin like hot white sugar, her tits perky and the perfect handful, her smooth stomach, and her pussy. There was something inside her, too, that he’d never realized until he’d started to release it—a flame on low that his attention had turned to a raging blaze—that kept him close and humming like a moth now.
He needed to stop, to remember where they were. What they were doing. His pants were way too tight. If the boner that threatened to rip got to full mast, his entire high school graduating class would see it.
“Hurry up,” Val directed, waking him from his fantasy. “Faster,” she insisted, sparking a new one. Faster falling from her lips as his cock entered her again and again and again. He had an idea of how it would feel. His tongue and fingers remembering she was tight, wet, and as quick to respond as a servant… Stop—he had to make himself stop.
“I’m going as fast as I can.” He wobbled along with her. “You seriously care about winning this thing?”
“If I play,” she huffed, “I win.”
Typical Val; he always admired her confident spirit and belief that she deserved to win. He’d never thought that about himself, even with all he had accomplished.
Why was he still carrying that little boy? He was a famous rock star, for fuck’s sake. His father didn’t have the power to tamp out his destiny any more. But, being with all these people, being in this town, was bringing the tyrannical thumb of his father right back, choking his larynx. The first time his father hit him was the last time Alec believed that love didn’t come with consequences. That being hurt was the rule, not the exception.
“Alec,” Valerie demanded, pulling at his ankle with her own, “wake up.”
“It’s just a dumb ribbon. I can buy you one.”
“For what?”
He had some ideas. Maybe Best Woman I Ever Tasted. “Whatever, whatever you want to win for. I’ll buy you a room of them if we can run a little slower.”
“Awww,” she played, not letting up on her pace, “is Al out of shape, too many late nights partying?”
“I’m not out of shape,” he said, moving faster, “this is just stupid.” He’d show her how fucking in shape he was when he finally made her come around his cock.
“Then why did you ask to be my partner?”
He didn’t answer, even though it was completely clear to him. He might have been avoiding going back to the room, but he also knew to keep his sanity he had to prove he could be near her without losing his fucking mind. He was trying to get himself to remember this was them. Not what had happened in the room, even though he couldn’t stop thinking about going back there.
They finally reached the next cone, removed the rope, and moved on to the next obstacle—crawling through a set of tubes made out of tent material.
He glanced down at his pants. “I am not dressed for this.” Like everything he owned, his outfit was tight, black, and studded. Clothes made for playing guitar, not playing catch.
“Who packed for you, Marilyn Manson?”
“My stylist,” he admitted. He let him do everything when it came to clothes. Alec was too lazy, too busy to care what he wore.
She rolled her eyes. “Even worse.”
He pulled on the legs of his jeans. “I really can’t bend down in these.”
She shrugged dismissively. “Then take them off.” It was a joke Val would have made hundreds of times before this weekend, but now it froze them. Her cheeks bloomed, her lips pressed together.
He moved closer to her, unable to fight it anymore. “I only do that for dirty girls,” he whispered. “You know any?”
“We have four more obstacles left,” she breathed. Her eyes became all pupils, and he knew he had her.
“You must want that ribbon real bad.” He slid his finger along her bra strap. Her skin was damp with sweat, her heavy breaths going uneven as he continued to play with the satiny fabric. “More than you want anything.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” Her bottom lip caught between her teeth.
They were locked in place, the world still moving around them.
“What trumps the ribbon?” He forced himself to let go of her bra strap so he didn’t rip it off of her.
“I think you saw that this morning.”
His abdomen gnashed and roared. Oh, fuck had he ever.
“Besides,” she continued, “if we’re only going to be together once, I figure we shouldn’t rush that.”
“Definitely not.” It was the same thought he’d had, but that thought was falling fast.
A line was forming behind them. People were waiting to get into the next obstacle instead of cutting in front of them. They were watching. He was famous now, and even though they couldn’t hear their conversation, they wanted to see what was going to happen.
He did, too.
“But,” she finally said, “it’s not like we have to wait or anything. That’s not a rule.”
He waved his arm at the gathering crowd. “Go around,” he said, grabbing Val at the waist and guiding her out of the way. “We both have cramps,” he declared, thinking fast.
“I always knew you two were on the same cycle,” Brandon White, ex–high school quarterback, current NFL one, panted, pushing past them. His partner was another ex–football player who didn’t play for an NFL team, and his flabby body showed it.
You’d think the astronomical probability that two famous people had come from the same graduating class would link them somehow, but clearly Brandon wasn’t into commiserating on their lottery-level odds. Alec didn’t even bother to respond. At least he had a hot woman as his partner.
At least he had a hot woman he was about to fuck.
“We would have beaten you if we didn’t stop,” Val yelled to the bottom of Brandon’s shoes as he slugged through the obstacle. “Once a douchebag, always a douchebag.” She shook her head.
“People don’t change.�
�
“You have.”
Outside, there was no doubt he had, but inside he wasn’t any different. He was still the guy who chose avoidance over pain. But she wasn’t asking for what was inside him, she wanted his body, and that he could give her.
Her lips trembled, waiting for his response. He wanted to kiss her, but that was a rule. There were also people around, and that was another. He was surprised he was keeping them all straight because thinking of Val like this, seeing her like this, was making everything hazy, in a good way.
The foghorn whistle announced the end of the race. The winners jumped up and down, hooted and slapped five.
“Guess I’m buying you that room full of ribbons.”
She staked her hand on top of his. “I don’t want anything I don’t work for.”
All their words were innuendo now; all their movements were foreplay. He was going to make her work. That was for sure.
“You’re okay with not staying for lunch?” As much as he wanted her, he wanted to be wanted by her even more.
“If you’re hungry, we could get room service again,” she suggested, one eyebrow up.
“I’m not hungry.”
She ran a finger along the length of his cheek, innocent enough, but with everything that was between them she might as well have been stroking his cock with warm lube. “I am.”
He moved her hand to his belt buckle. “Let’s get you fed.”
Chapter Seven
Once the elevator doors closed and they were finally alone, he couldn’t wait anymore. He circled his arms around her waist and pressed his chest into the soft contours of her tits. He drove his cock against her leg feverishly, losing himself in the ache.
His lips were desperate to go for hers. His need for them was almost stronger than the need pulsing through his cock, but he kissed her jaw instead. Lay hot, furious kisses all along the angle of her chin and into the soft skin at the tip of her neck.
He cornered her against the wall. He couldn’t move his hands fast enough, his lips fast enough, his cock threatened to rip through his five-hundred-dollar jeans, but everything became this moment. Their two bodies searching desperately for any contact, any release—each other.
